Alone in Anórien
by Swytla
Summary: A girl unknowingly enters Arda through an old Native American site. What secrets and danger await the traveller? How will she survive lost in the White Mountains? Join her on a fantastic journey a few years before the start of LOTR. Non-MS! Undergoing HEAVY EDITING
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything connected to LOTR or Tolkien. This story is written solely for my own enjoyment and that of my readers.

**A/N: Hopefully 'Alone in Anórien' will be different from other stories in the LOTR fandom that feature a female OC. **

**a.) The beginning chapters are somewhat slow in development and do not feature any of the leading characters from the books. No Tenth Walker here, sorry. The Prologue itself is a bit long, so I hope you bear with it and continue reading. If you want to skip it and read when she's in Middle Earth, go to the next chapter.**

**b.) There will be no Mary-Sues even though the story is told from the perspective of a female character, who is an ordinary student from our world with no knowledge of swords, magic or the Middle Earth's languages; she is not even a great fan of the books!**

I hope, dear readers, that you will enjoy this adventure. Any suggestions, criticism or advice are appreciated for I firmly believe it is this that allows all authors to grow as writers.

Thank you for reading and even more for leaving a note :)

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**Prologue**

**or: How you land in Middle Earth**

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I stood on the narrow path leading between two high cliffs to the valley beyond which was the goal of my two-day journey. My friend April Jones (who I had met at my University in Europe), her friends and two cousins were further up the road. Because of the heavy fog that lingered well into the late morning I saw only dark blurs around me. Luckily for our expedition, the sound carried a long distance, so communication between us was not as difficult as it could have been. And communication was especially important when we were located deep in the Canadian mountains, and there was danger of getting lost. But I thought the situation was getting slightly ridiculous – how in the world would we be able to _see_ and get to our destination if we barely managed to discern trees and rocks twenty yards away?

My backpack was heavy, and the chill and humidity of the fog had my cheeks painfully cold and red. This was not how I had imagined our trip to the old and abandoned Native American site would be like. Until now I had braved the journey with good humour, but the morning fog April swore would be gone by noon was only getting thicker by the hour.

Until this moment my stay in Canada has been enjoyable, fabulous even. I was here for a month and half now, visiting my friend April and her family. We've met at a student exchange program at my University the previous year. She was wandering the corridors, searching for the hidden door to our lavatory when she bumped into me. From that moment on I was her guide around the University and the local area. It was not long afterwards that she was dragging me from one place to another in the city I had thought I knew pretty well. However, the spirited Canadian knew it like the back of her hand in barely two months time; a feat I did not manage until a year had passed.

I must admit her overabundance of energy and good humour had me overwhelmed at times, but at the same time this spurned me on to work harder and enjoy new and exciting things. She dragged me on trips I never got around of taking before, had me working out regularly and even expanded my circle of friends. We spent coffee brakes chatting and laughing, and even the most boring lectures were bearable with her scribbling comments in the margins of my notes. I was like ying to her yang. So it was no surprise when she invited me to spend the long summer holidays with her.

"Megan," said she, "you simply _must_ come. I don't want to hear any excuses." And there were no excuses I would give, for I was thinking of asking her if I could go with her to Canada myself.

For the first few weeks after the invitation, I was naturally excited at the prospect of spending two months in a foreign country. Although my parents were a bit protective and wanted to discourage me (or at least make me wait a year before going), I managed to persuade them that it was the chance of a lifetime. It helped that they knew April is a responsible person. The good results of the exams maybe had a bit to do with their good mood too. It did not matter though. Because I had never been abroad for such a long time without my parents, I was just dying to experience a bit of traveling alone. I needed new experiences – I was twenty one, for God's sake! I had not rebelled in the first two years at the University and went on a trip around Europe with my mates, so I felt entitled to this wonderful opportunity. Yes, I did travel during the weekends with my mates, but I spent most of my holidays at home. I liked to concentrate on my paintings when the heat was too much to endure without an AC, or party without the threat of missed lectures in the morning.

So I worked hard one month before the flight to Canada. I had a scholarship, but since I intended to spend a lot on my trip (and because there never is such a thing as too much money), I had donned an apron and started to tend to the patrons of the Black Cat pub. Being a waitress at one of the many Irish pubs in my hometown was a fun experience. Quite a few of my high school mates came by since the same pub used to be one of our gathering places after school.

After the month was over I had enough to pay my half of the plane ticket and all the things I needed for the stay in Canada. Since April spent a month at her family cabin at one of the many lakes, I was invited as well. I knew the stay there would turn out to be special. But living in the wild required a lot of luggage that I couldn't possibly drag with me on the plane. April got everything sorted out in no time, and my worries (along with my mum's) diminished. I had little to carry when I boarded the plane, but I knew the size of my luggage would be doubled when I arrived back home – no doubt due to souvenirs and presents... I happened to like shopping abroad. Little trinkets, books on art, pottery... you name it.

After four weeks spent in the big city, running from one place to another, browsing the shops, visiting museums and experiencing the Canadian style of life, I had been excited to experience the wild beauty of the woods and lakes that made up this country. A cabin in the middle of nowhere plus my best friend and her good companions sounded like heaven. She had promised fishing, canoeing and hiking, and warm fires with star-watching and story telling. That there was no electricity at the cabin was a given, but since I'm not addicted to computers, television and other modern conveniences, I thought this would be no big deal. I know some of _my _friends can't live without these things, but I hoped I would survive well enough without it. If people could live without it a hundred years ago, so could I, I had thought.

If only I knew how prophetic these thoughts were...

And so I was standing in the centre of the path leading to the valley, shivering and feeling slightly miserable. Not that the other nine were faring much better. I expected someone to start complaining loudly any time now. It was slightly stupid to continue forward in this weather. Ten college students ought to know better than to stick to the plan in these conditions. Well, I guess the guys would have no problem pushing on, but we girls were not as sturdy as them.

We all knew each other quite well by now. The two weeks spent at the cabin made us connect on a very intimate level that would not have been possible in the big city where each of us was pulled in opposite directions. Here we had to work with each other. I liked that and I could see that April enjoyed this as well. It was not hard to love their company.

I could only smirk and shake my head when I remembered what April told me the reason for this hike was. She wanted to get her best friend Mike and Celine together, who made it pretty clear to anyone they fancied each other. The only unanswered question was what kept them from admitting to. So, April hatched a plan. It was so typical of her to try and pair people up, if they wanted it or not.

"There is nothing like a touch of romance in the woods", she told me. I had my doubts that smelly clothes and muddy shoes had anything to do with it, but limited my skepticism to a raised eyebrow to which she had responded with loud laughter. April and her plans… She really did not make us any favours with this one.

I grumbled to myself, safe in the knowledge they would not hear me. I was (as usual) the last one in the line; not because I wasn't fit enough for the trip, but because I always liked to walk at my own pace. Usually I'd be snapping pictures or just enjoying the view, but the thick fog that surrounded us for the last few hours annihilated any thought of snapping photos. What was the point? All I'd be able to see would be an endless grey-white blur. And being one of the shortest in the group, I also had the shortest legs and I saw no use in competing with the 'giants'. They towered over me by at least a head, even though my height was just slightly below average for women.

But I had to bite my tongue and push forward if I wished to see with my own eyes what the Native Americans accomplished and left behind for future generations. I have always carried a deep fascination for all native cultures of the lands I had visited, and even more so for those that were wronged throughout history. I truly hoped we would make it. I wanted to see the place the Natives spoke of in their legends and stories. It was supposedly a place where they entered another world. It was no doubt a place where rites of passage and other spiritual practices took place in the past before it was abandoned. There were many paintings on the walls of a cliff, I was told, so I was even more curious. Art was my chosen major for a reason after all.

However, it seemed I would not get the chance to admire this site. Another hour passed without the fog lifting or even thinning a bit. How in the world did Claire and Sabrina find their way? I saw no trail – only wildness and an endless sea of rocks, trunks and fog.

"April! This is getting ridiculous," I exclaimed when the blanket surrounding us seemed to thicken after a bend in the road. It was getting downright dangerous! I knew well enough that we could not afford to get lost here. And I was not the only one commenting on that fact.

"Yeah, sure it doesn't make any sense," she responded with her usual air and bright smile – always an optimist. "It'll get better."

"You said that three hours ago, remember?" I reminded her gently without being bitchy or nagging about it. "We won't see a thing soon. Is it really wise going on?" I asked.

"Don't worry, Megan," cut in Matthew, Sabrina's boyfriend who acted like a big brother to the female population of our group. "We know the trail very well. No worries here." If only I could believe him. "Anyway, we start to climb up here, so we should get out of this thick soup in an hour or so," he explained, looking at the map.

"Thank God!" sighed April's other cousin. "I've never seen such fog in my life," she complained. I hadn't either, but I kept any comments to myself. We were miserable enough. Hiking in such conditions is not pleasant at all. Where the heavy backpack rested against my back sweat gathered on my skin, yet where the cold air brushed against I felt cold. It was pretty clear that late August brought with it more of the autumn weather than anyone liked.

"Well, the sun should be shining above the fog level," I said as we waited for Mike who was retying his boots. "Let's hope we'll get dry by the end of the day… or we'll be sniffling for the rest of the stay here. Your parent's won't be happy when they come, April."

"Ha!" she barked out. "It would be payback for last year." She turned to Sabrina, "You remember the flu I got from them when they got ill camping out here – I felt like crap for a week. And I had a date with J.J too," she huffed, much to my amusement. This event had really ticked her off and she was nursing some resentment even a year later. Everyone knew about this cancelled date that involved a major crush and a concert of one of her favorite bands.

"You poor baby," cooed Sabrina, petting April. We burst out in laughter.

"But the weather is really horrible," sighed Celine after we calmed down. "We should have listened to that weather forecast," she stated. The guys had checked the weather conditions for the next week with the help of their cell-phones, even if the reception left something to be desired. "They clearly said it will get colder. But there's no use crying over spilt milk is there, April," she smiled, knowing exactly what her friend would have said in response. April promptly closed her mouth and quirked a smile.

"Good to know I've got you well trained," she nodded, much to our amusement. She was a comedian. But that is exactly what I liked about her – she had a sense of humor that never really offended anyone. She knew how far she could go and could also laugh at her own expense.

"Well, the forecast _did _say it would be cloudy, but I didn't think they meant that the clouds would fall down on us…" grumbled Clair, still much in the spirit of our banter. She just shrugged her shoulders when the guys asked her if she could elaborate, and drank from her flask of water. I personally had no desire whatsoever for a drink – the fog took care of that. When I am cold, water is the farthest thing from my mind.

"Yeah, right, big deal. Come on you babies – a little bad weather won't kill us," April mock whined. She was ready to go forward and get her share of the promised sunshine, but we needed a break to nibble on a cracker or drink the beverage of our choice. We had walked a long time after all.

"No, perhaps it will not kill us, but it certainly defeats all the plans we made," I told her as I rolled my shoulders. Good God was my backpack heavy! The previous days spent carrying it made my shoulders stiff even if we tried to share the load equally among each other. The guys did carry the majority of our provisions, but we girls had to do our share too.

"We had this conversation already," she whined. She never liked mood-killers in her vicinity and my comment could have been considered a start to an argument or a complaining campaign of epic proportions. There were ten grumpy and cold college students bunched together. But fortunately, we had the advantage of being people who make the best of a situation. So, we kept our complaints to ourselves and focused on the (hopefully) brighter future. I must admit I would have thrown a fit at the miserable weather if we were just starting out on our hike, but since we were a day and half away from the cabin there was no point.

"Ok, here's the deal," April said, "we go another hour and if it doesn't get better, we turn back. The trail will get harder after that, so I see no point in persisting from that point on."

We all smiled – there was no way she would allow us to do that. We would most possibly receive a lecture on the benefits of not giving up, on keeping our words, and so on. I chuckled and soon we all laughed. "Ok. You have your deal," I told her and she embraced me like I had promised her the world.

"Now, I knew there was a reason I had invited you," she grinned.

"Right. And that had nothing to do with my charming personality or the fact we are friends," I retorted back, tongue-in-cheek.

"You never know…" was the cheeky reply. "Now, are we ready to go on?" she asked us as she strapped her backpack onto her shoulders once again. Various affirmative words were her answer and we formed a line to continue on the narrow path once again. It was getting close to noon I estimated, since my watch had decided to die on me the previous week. Some people are just lucky that way.

When we moved down a curve, before a steep climb up began anew, a yelp of pain rang out. It was Celine.

My heart froze for a second before I saw others start into action. I only saw her stagger before Mike (to no one's surprise nearest to her) managed to get a hold of her hand. Nick and Mike helped her hobble to a nearby boulder and take off her backpack so she could sit comfortably. This was bad.

"What happened? What's the matter?" April frantically asked her friend.

"I think I sprained my ankle on that hole over there…" she bit out through clenched teeth. I hissed in sympathy for I knew the pain she was experiencing. I had had a light sprain several years ago. Even though I only required a tightly wound bandage around my ankle, the first two days were hell. I couldn't walk, couldn't sleep and was constantly reminded of the injury with every move I made with my foot. I was pretty sure one of the guys would be carrying her back to the place we had spent the night.

"Let me see," said Matthew – the only one with a medical degree in our group. Even if we weren't incompetent regarding first aid, he was the authority in anything connected with health and injuries.

I moved closer to April and observed from the sidelines how they carefully removed Celine's trekking shoes and two pairs of socks while keeping a small stream of conversation going. I did not know if it was for Celine's benefit or theirs. I had nothing to say.

I got a look at her foot and saw that a slight bruise was already forming. _Crap! _It was hard to miss it with her dainty feet and pale complexion.

"This doesn't look good," Matthew declared, gently turning her foot one way or the other. I just wondered how this was even possible with our sturdy hiking boots that offered plenty of protection. But it did not matter now; what was done was done. We offered words of comfort to Celine who was rapidly losing color in her cheeks. Knowing her, she was feeling guilty about ruining our trip.

"We need bandages and an icepack," Matthew declared. "A cold bottle would be good right now," he amended his command. We did not have ice with us.

Claire had one of the first aid kits and she had already begun searching for it. Nick rummaged around his backpack for the cold bottle of water. One by one we removed our backpacks and settled down in a circle around Celine, helping when we could, but mostly just observing how Matthew carefully bound her foot up after cooling the injured area to numb the pain. It seemed to help, for she regained some of the color in her cheeks.

"We'll wait a bit for the initial pain to go down. An aspirin would be nice too, what do you say, Celine?" he gently asked her.

"Please," she nodded. I sighed and offered her an encouraging smile when she turned to me.

"Don't worry; we'll get you back safe. At least you provided me with a reason to come back and bother April next summer," I winked at her and the others laughed. She even managed a small smile that I returned ten times stronger.

Since there was little space to move around, least of all to put down our backpacks and sit, I was one of the last one standing up with my pack still perched on my shoulders. As the initial shock of the situation was over, we made ourselves comfortable in a circle around the boulder Celine was sitting on. Mike wrapped her in a blanket and offered her some of the warm tea from his flask. A mental '_Awww_' was shared among us girls at the affection he heaped on her. I did not miss April's triumphant look thrown my way. '_See, it works',_ could be read in her eyes. April and her romances…

It seemed it was high time I found a spot to rest and preferably not near her or my ears would be filled with endless remarks on any move the two 'lovers' made. And it would take some time before we moved on, this time in the opposite direction. _Brilliant, just brilliant._

There were not many nice and relatively dry rocks to be found. The fog made the leaves that littered the floor slippery and there was no way in hell I'd sit on the ground. So I moved a bit away from the group to a nice sized flat rock I had seen a few steps back. I took a look at my seat and felt satisfied. It was relatively big and dry. _Perfect._

"Megan! Do you have that pack of tissues with you?" asked Clair. "This weather is just horrible!" she complained. I could only sympathize – my nose was not exactly dry either.

The pack was in the uppermost pocket, so I threw it to Claire who caught it expertly. I reached for my faithful brown and olive trekking backpack. It had accompanied me on almost every journey I had ever made and was used extensively when commuting from the city to my home-town, so I was careful where I put it. We had history and I did not wish to find a tear on the bottom one day. It would break my heart. It was then when I wanted to lift it up that I discovered a small bone pendant. It was lying beside it on the ground, almost crushed under its weight.

My left eyebrow arched in surprise and fascination. _What is this?_

I reached out and lifted the pendant up. Curious about the discovery my eyes studied it with the careful precision of a dedicated artist. _Who did you belong to? _I wondered.

It was carved in a shape of a wolf. The tail languidly curved downwards, its front legs strong with defined muscles yet leaner than the hind legs. The narrow and strong muzzle pointed slightly upwards. It appeared to be looking at something in the sky – _maybe the moon_? I could very well see such a proud creature howling at the moon in the winter. But what really made this carving beautiful and strange at the same time was the very fine craftsmanship. The lines and cuts were made with great care, and although the piece was very old it seemed to be well taken care of. Some parts of it were smoothed with long use as if someone were petting or touching it continuously. This slightly worn look added charm and gave it life. If it were unblemished it would not have been as beautiful as it was now – it would have lacked its spirit.

When I held it in my hand it fit perfectly into my palm – it was by no means a small pendant. Whatever bone was used (maybe even horn), the animal must have been large. But what did I know about such things, really? I started to shift through the knowledge I had of sculpturing of the earlier periods of human history and on what I knew of the Native American arts and craft. April had been a great help there, but many things slipped my grasp in the abundance of information.

_Have I stumbled on a new archaeological spot? Unlikely… Has one of the regular visitors lost it?_

I bent down to look more closely at the place where it had lain. There was a strange shape discernable under the moss. Did the relics of the old culture spread all around the valley, and not just to one known spot? Had we unknowingly missed the path in the thick fog and found something new? Such thoughts flew through my mind, and I was positively excited about it.

"April, you've got to see this," I said with a voice that almost quivered with happiness as I gently moved the thick moss slightly up and away. It peeled itself off easily, leaving only a trace of mud behind. There was a strange shape carved into the rock, slightly raised from the smooth structure. _What is this?_

It looked like it were a shape of a man, but then again it did not. It had arms and legs, but the body was slightly bent, there seemed to be long nails on the fingers. The face was a mask, I was sure. _A demon perhaps?_ But did the Native Americans believe in demons? I could not remember.

"April! Come and look at this," I called once again. When no answer was hear I turned around. It dawned on me that there was no sound to be heard from my friends anymore. There was no subdued chatter or the encouraging words to Celine. Even the fog had thickened to a pea-soup quality the famous London-fog was described as. It was pretty scary and strange. I could not explain it, but chills ran down my spine.

"April?" I called out, "Hey?" Were they trying to prank me? It would be nothing unusual. But I was in no mood for silly pranks. I was scared. Yet there was no sound to be heard. "Guys, this is not funny. Answer me," I commanded, trying to control the fear. But it seemed as if the fog ate up my words, leaving me wrapped in white nothing. My heart-rate spiked considerably.

I became nervous, but I still clung to the idea of a prank. It was better than to analyze what was happening. The strangeness of the silence and the fog was a can of worms I did not wish to open or even touch upon. Funny, how our minds disregard our instincts in a futile attempt to preserve our sanity.

I straightened up and grabbed my backpack with a shaky fist. With a disgruntled expression I went in the direction they should be in. After ten steps, there was no one there. Even when I walked twenty steps no person was to be found. The tendrils of fog rolled on the ground, chilling me to the bone. _I have not counted wrong._ I was sure of it but why was no one there? I had a good sense of direction, so I was sure they were supposed to be where I stood. I yelled out a few times for good measure, deep inside knowing there would be no answer.

I looked closer, searching for any indication where I was. Even Celine's boulder was not there. In its place were mighty trees with dark bark. I panicked.

"April! Matthew? Where are you?!" I cried out.

I turned around and around but my eyes could not penetrate the dense cloud surrounding me. Everything was wrapped in the fog, appearing only when I stood a few steps before it. Even then it was like I had to fight my way through to see it. At my wit's end, I turned around again to return to the shelf. Somehow I managed to get to it again.

_Good. You know where you are – now find them!_

This first victory made me focus. Once again ventured in the direction they should be at, and once again failed to find April and our group. I could feel tears gathering in my eyes, threatening to fall any time. Blindly I ran in every direction possible, scraping myself on some bushes along the way. I called their names, pleading for them to answer me. A horrible thought wriggled inside my mind; this place did not feel familiar at all! Trees, only trees and a small rock or two seemed to emerge from the fog; not the massive boulders I was familiar with. The bushes were small and bare, not filled with colored leaves.

"Shit…shit, shit!" I cursed under my breath.

_Why don't they answer me? What is going on?!_

My fingers dug inside the long braids Claire had so painstakingly made the previous evening and pulled. _What is going on?! Where am I? _ With a heavy sigh of agitation I turned around to once again start the search from the shelf. In vain…

When I could not run around anymore, I collapsed at the boulder and wrapped my head in my hands. _What now?_ I looked down on the pendant I still had in my hand and heaved a great sigh. _What was going on?_ I did not understand what was happening to me, where I went wrong or what I was supposed to do. I kept telling myself to find a solution, but it was not that easy to find one.

After a while I continued to run in circles for over an hour, steadily becoming more and more agitated. But in that time the heavy fog seemed to lift a bit and the visibility became somewhat better. It did not matter that much though, it remained pretty bad overall. And was not exactly familiar with this hike as April and her cousins were. I could almost imagine the news report: 'Tourist lost – search launched this afternoon'. _Brilliant!_

I did not have my cell phone with me, thus the solution of calling for help had been crossed out before my mad running around. I surely wished I had it with me now! I couldn't believe I had wandered off so far from them and then lost track. It just did not sound logical at all. I was just ten steps from them, maybe more… And I could scream pretty loudly, so there was no reason for them not to hear me.

I sank down on the shelf I had always returned to. My backpack was discarded onto the ground. I cried for a few minutes before composing myself. When I felt better, I busied myself with the pins and cords keeping my long hair bound tightly together. I'd do anything just to keep my mind off the fucked up situation I was in. Anyway, I had in my mad dash and frantic gestures pulled out several strands that now hung into my eyes, so I had to get it retied. Small droplets of dew clung to the strands and when I finally unbound my hair, the water slipped closer to my skin. I felt altogether miserable in this cold. With little care I bound the cold and limp mass in a pony-tail, pocketing the pins and other cords.

I could already feel an exhaustion headache starting at my temples. _This is so fucked up! What the hell am I supposed to do? _I had to think my options through and come up with some solutions. But it was harder than I thought – panic was not far from my mind.

It seemed best to turn back and try to reach the ramshackle cabin we had spent the night at. I did not have my sleeping bag with me since Nick insisted he'd carry it, but I thought I'd manage with only a blanket and a few layers of clothing. But I did fear the cold at night. _I have to find them before that happens!_

The nagging voice at the back of my mind kept reminding me that landscapes didn't change in a matter of seconds and I had some knowledge how my surroundings were supposed to look like despite the fog, but I pushed the thought away. To pursue it any longer could only lead to madness. Sometimes it is easier to pretend nothing is wrong than face the matter.

I turned in the direction I supposed we had come from. Since I rarely went wrong, I was quite confident in my ability to find my way back despite this recent incident. My internal compass had never steered me wrong before, so I was a little shaken, but I decided to trust it as always. I confidently turned towards the direction I deemed was west; from where we moved from towards the Native American site. The sun was only a small white disk somewhere up in the sky, but I knew where to turn to from the position of the shelf with the interesting relief.

_Here we go, Meg. Time to get home._

The path lead me through a labyrinth of tall trees, over their roots sticking up from the ground that was littered with leaves and sported many pools of mud and dark earth. The forest floor glistened with water drops, the leaves barely making a sound as I stepped on them. My own breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the silence blanketing everything. Where were the birds? I did not know, but their absence made my hairs stand on end.

I blame my frazzled nerves for the time it took me to realize something quite odd with this forest. As the fog receded and the lower branches of the trees could be seen better, I realized there were no leaves on them. When the same was seen on the bush I came across I took my time to investigate. The appearance of very tiny spring green buds on the ends made my heart stop. _How in the world is this possible?_ Tiny buds peppered the small branches and the few bushes gave cover to the early flowers and soft tufts of fresh green grass. There was no denying it. This was not September in Canada.

There should have been millions of red and yellow autumn leaves glistening with dew, but instead I was gazing at a fresh new growth on the twigs. And yet I was not crazy, this was not a hallucination. I certainly wish it was. But the evidence was unmistakable. Every tree I saw was the same. This forest was waking up from a long winter sleep.

I stood rooted to the spot under one mighty oak. Soft tremors shook my frame while my mind struggled with this latest discovery. "Oh God, no, please…" I pleaded.

I felt sick. I had no fucking clue what was going on and nothing made sense anymore. I swayed slightly on the spot, overwhelmed with panic. Hysteria bubbled up in my throat, forcing its way out in choked gasps. I struggled to grasp at the tatters of my sanity. I had no rational explanation to what was going on. Tears welled in my eyes, soon following the familiar path down my cheeks.

It took some time before I calmed down again. I don't know how long, but it took time. Whenever I felt somewhat calmer a new terrifying thought would appear in my mind, forcing me into another spiral of dark thoughts and bursts of tears. I felt so alone and exposed in this strange landscape. If only April and guys were here – I'd feel so much better!

This thought jolted me from my desperation. What if they were lost inside this forest too? Looking for me? I prayed they were not separated from the others like I was. But what in the world could turn the time back again? This was one explanation that did not make much sense to me. Was I located at the opposite hemisphere then? If this was a forest in spring, I had to be somewhere like New Zealand or the Andes. The forest vegetation did not appear to be much different from Canadian one, so I at least was located at the same height. But what could do that? A portal? I did not believe in them. But what if there was some truth to the legends? Did the Natives truly find a way to enter a 'new world'?

I prayed that I was still on good old Earth, just transported to a completely different land. It would be a hell to explain without ending up in jail or a psych ward, but I would take that over being lost here all alone. "I'd never scoff at the Bermuda Triangle mystery if I come back home safe and sound," I swore.

The fog was still lifting up very slowly, so I discarded the idea of searching for my friends in the huge forest. Matthew would urge anyone to descend the mountains and move towards big rivers where towns or houses are easily found. Finding civilization is the first step; things are a small piece of cake from then onwards. With the help of the police and rescue teams my friends would be found much faster. They had a few cell-phones with them too. They could always call for help and be traced with the GPS. I only hoped Celine would be alright…

So I heeded Matthew's advice and turned towards a gentle slope, which hopefully lead down the mountain. The visibility was bad, but it was bound to change. I just had to keep on until help arrived. Armed with my backpack and the knowledge April drummed into my head about surviving in the wild, I took on the challenge. I did not know that my journey has only just begun.

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**A/N: Please review! :D **

**Any mistakes, inconsistencies... anything that bothers you - feel free to point it out in your review. I'll gladly edit it for future readers. Thank you.**


	2. First Contact

**A/N:****Edited: 2.8.2010**

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Chapter One: First Contact**

**or: How to survive outdoors**

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I walked for an hour or so towards the west from the place I had appeared at. The fog has begun to lift just as I expected it would. There were gentle mists obscuring the view down the mountain now, but I could see quite far, just not the valleys I was most interested in. Perhaps I was just very high. The valleys in the Alps had a tendency of being covered with clouds and fog while the upper parts of the mountains bathed in light during spring. Perhaps this was similar. It was pretty cold and the low temperature could only mean that the night would be even colder. Grass had only started to grow, its fresh green color standing out in stark contrast to the dull browns and grays of other vegetation. I was glad there were only patches of snow to be found, mostly in shadowed areas.

A loud grumble of my stomach forced me to find a spot to rest. Many hours have passed since breakfast and the tiring events of the last hour made me hungry for something more than just the sandwich I allowed myself to eat. I had no idea when I'd find the first dwelling where I'd get fresh food, so I was trying to preserve what I got. It was not much – two sandwiches, some extra bred and cheese, two cans of beans, some dried meat and a pack of barley. I even had some instant soup, dried fruit and apples. But considering how much I had to walk it was barely enough for a few days, after that I'd go hungry. I had no illusions of finding food in the forest – it was early spring and there simply was nothing to be found since animals were very likely to have eaten it already.

With this sobering discovery I sat on the cold boulder, munching on the dry bread with little pleasure. I had to find people before that happened. I just had to. The cold air made it even more urgent since my body burned more calories just to stay warm. Even now perspiration made the first layers of clothing cling to me, making me feel even colder than I was when it started to dry. This urged me to continue forward as soon as possible.

As closer as my feet brought me to the valley, the less my mind was occupied with the problems I had. The rhythmic thump of the boots on the soaked ground relaxed me, made me centre more on the path itself. The solitude did not bother me as I found my peace. I have always been a person who could stay alone for hours, lost in my work. The process of applying colors layer by layer was not something you could rush and here too the principle applied. I had to search for my path. So I gave myself over to the task, eventually finding a sliver of enjoyment in it.

Eventually I found an opening in the forest again – a large cliff opened up the view for me. The mists were thinner too and I could see more of the large forest I had found myself in. After a careful maneuver over a few fallen logs, I was in the right position to look below. Finally I could get the first glimpse of the bottom of the valley. A large forest covered a large chunk of it, but part of it was grassland. Pastures, my logic dictated.

"There ought to be people down there," I said to myself with relief. But there was no doubt left that this was not Canada and definitely not the path our group had taken.

The steep descent brought me only this close to the pastures and that worried me. It could easily mean a night spent out in the open. With determination I pushed forward, but the path did not become any better, so I had to face that probability. Very soon I had to walk in large bends to avoid waterfalls, deep gorges or move away from a blocked path, which ate up even more of my precious time. I dared not risk taking foolish shortcuts even if they offered themselves to me; I'd never get to safety were anything to happen to my feet.

After another exhausting three hours I could catch a glimpse of a river in the distance when the last mists scattered and the air became clear with the cold. It was Anduin that glistened in the sun, but I had no real idea of its width at the time or its name. But the sight of it soothed my worries – people would be there. I even saw a mountain range in the east - Mordor. The land I looked upon was one of the most important provinces in production of food, especially wheat. It was called Anórien, land of the sun. It was where the White Mountains formed an unbroken line that no one could cross, separating the land into two very different provinces. Along the peaks ran the Beacons of Gondor, heralds of danger. My path led to one of them, but I would never get the chance to reach it. The people of Gondor had a good reason to avoid the mountains.

The next remaining hours of sunlight were spent searching for a way along muddy and slippery stones that offered little footing. I watched out for anything looking like a shelter, but I was not satisfied with what I found. Many boulders littered the forests and I wondered how far they had rolled form the white-capped peaks. Those same peaks fed the numerous streams and brooks with icy water that made my teeth hurt when I drank it. But it was the best water I've tasted even though it left my hands quite numb when I replenished my stock of water. There were many prints in the soft ground beside the streams – the forest was brimming with wildlife. But as of yet, there was nothing betraying human presence; no signs of tree-felling, no roads, paths - nothing.

The day turned into evening surprisingly fast. I was closer to the valleys, but there was still a lot of ground to be covered the next day. I was exhausted and hungry. I had never expected the valleys to be so far away. I have walked similar air-mile distances from the valleys before, and it never took me this long to get to them. Of course I was following marked paths then, not finding my own. The idea to use a flashlight and try covering more ground sounded tempting, but the conditions of the path made me discard it almost immediately. But a night spent outside in this weather? It sounded almost barbaric. April and her nature-freak cousins would have agreed with me. I dearly hoped they were OK and safely huddled around a fire in their sleeping bags by now. Well, Nick had mine too, so someone was going to get extra comfy. I just hoped to avoid frostbite or pneumonia with my meager blanket.

It never crossed my mind that they did not end up here too. So I hoped Celine got it since she needed the rest. I wanted to get to the valley first and get help for them, in case there was anything wrong with the cell-phone reception here. I did not wish Celine to walk this path in her condition. I should have worried more about myself though.

But my worries and desires turned towards things I could not get. I wanted a room. A few hard planks would do for a bead; I'd be comfortable even with a leaky roof. I was far from being picky. But I had to search for something I'd be able to transform into a shelter. I had to have a roof over my head in case the weather turned bad. I was about to give up when I found it – and in the nick of time too as darkness rapidly approached.

It was a small rock shelter, hidden behind trees and bushes, but visible because of the lack of leafs and other vegetation. I walked right past it so I did not miss the wonderful opportunity. It was the best possible resting place I could have hoped for in the wilderness. I was real proud for finding it even though I more or less stumbled across it. My decision to continue the search and move towards the valleys had turned out to be a lucky one, but a gut feeling told me I wouldn't be as fortunate the next time I was in need of shelter.

The rocks here had formed a very small cave with a low ceiling. The ground was reasonably dry if cold and there wasn't much dirt littering it, which was fortunate. No animal had been there in the recent time, so it did not stink too much. With a pair of branches found under trees a makeshift broom was quickly fashioned and I swept the floor with ease. I had to be bent in half and watch out for my head, but I knew the low ceiling would only aid me in preserving heat during the night. It also would protect me from animals if I lighted a fire at the entrance. I was lucky enough that I did not stumble upon any predators while walking around as it was.

I had a reasonable amount of dry twigs and more thick fallen branches collected in half an hour. It was high time I lighted the fire and prepared something to eat too. My stack of firewood was quite big. "It is better to have more than needed than less…" I reminded myself. The nights spend around the fire in the last two weeks had given me enough experience to know how much I needed. It would have been ideal to have bigger logs available, but I was satisfied with the branches I found or broke of from bushes. The only problem seemed to be finding dry hay or something similar with which to feed the first flame. I had a lighter, but I couldn't have possibly started a fire with it without kindling. In the end I used dry leaves from the cave. How stupid of me to sweep it out in the first place!

I folded the blanket and knelt down on it. My fireplace was located just right so that the wind would not roll the smoke into the small cave. I had no desire to suffocate while sleeping. The cave had enough odors mixed together as it was, it did not need any more. I piled dry leaves together and added some smaller branches then tried to produce a flame. It did not take me long before I had a very small fire eating at the branches, but creating a steady bigger fire took some time. I was coughing from smoke despite my best efforts since the branches were not very dry and smoked a lot. My eyes burned and tears poured down my cheeks from it, but eventually the wind blew it away.

Now that the fire was strongly cracking, I felt safe and warm; even protected. It warmed my very soul with the feelings of security it offered. The miracle of light in the twilight can only be understood by people who were lost in the wilderness like me. Fire is a life-giver in such conditions. No wonder people have always revered it; guarded it in the form of sacred flames in temples. I cried silent tears of relief once I warmed up. We 'modern westerners' have almost forgotten how important it is to humanity, to the preservation of our life.

Eventually I wiped away the tears and began to prepare my dinner in the yellowish light. The sky grew steadily darker while I warmed up my canned beans. At first it tinted a magnificent red, and then moved to all kinds of purples and pinks before deciding upon a deep navy color that slowly melted into the blackness of the night. Stars appeared and with it the sounds of nightlife intensified.

"Nice trouble you got yourself into," I muttered as I stirred water in a small metal cup for my tea, "Should have stayed closer to the group…" I chastised myself as I carefully ate the hot beans. But mostly I did not talk much – the sound of words made it clear I was completely alone now.

I began to worry about my parents – my mother especially. I had not allowed myself to think about them before, but now it was all I could focus on. My mother would be devastated should anything happen to me, I knew that and it made me feel even worse. I had to get in contact with her as soon as possible. I have already missed the daily call home. I just hoped the guys managed to get in contact and launch a search. But even if they got word to her, she would be mad with worry. The only thing I could do now was to stay alive and healthy - get down from the mountains and out into the open. Then I'd get back home too.

The water heated up and began to bubble loudly. I pulled the metal cup away from the fire with a twig and pushed a tea bag inside. With a sigh I leaned back and rested my weary body on the backpack. I wondered once again how I've managed to get here.

_A gateway to a new world… The Natives traveled into a new world, a spiritual world. So am I still on Earth or is this some plane of existence I've never heard about? It is hard to imagine something like that really existing outside science-fiction novels._

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the pendant I had found at that relief. The wolf still looked up at something in the distance and the beautiful carving remained worn with use. The leather cord was strong even when left to the elements' whim. It was strange how I had found it and then lost my friends.

I ate the rest of my dinner, pondering about the significance of this found. When I felt tired enough to fall asleep sitting upright, I reached for the pendant again and mutely draped it around my neck. It felt oddly heavy for being made of bone, but the material was warm enough once I held it in my hand. It reached the valley between my breasts where I continued to play with it. It was a nervous habit I never got rid of.

_Everything will be alright, Megan. Everything will be alright…_

With these thoughts I slowly fell asleep on the blanket. The backpack kept the cold of the walls away from me, but I was nonetheless exposed to it from two sides. A dark brown jacket I had for change in case of rain sufficed for a meager blanket. I huddled as close to the fire as I dared to. The contrast of the cold and hot was strange. Part of me shivered while another perspired. To trick my body into believing it was warmer than it really was I tied my favorite cotton green scarf around my neck.

In the end I slept the sleep of the bone-weary and did not pay attention to the elements. The fire burned merrily for another hour or two before it changed to smoldering embers.

**OoOoO Alone OoOoO**

I awoke some time after midnight when an icy wind had me shivering from the cold. It was a nasty wake-up call that made me feel quite miserable. I quickly stroked up the fire and warmed my hands. The action seemed to help clear my mind from the sleep-haze. Luckily, the temperatures were not as low as I had feared they would turn, and the additional layers of clothing I had pulled over other shirts when I went to sleep seemed to be a relatively good cold-buffer. Yet despite renewed warmth I felt cold on the inside. I got nervous when animal cries became louder and nearer to my position, but I did not panic. I was quite used to the sounds of the wildlife after the time spent at the cabin. Of course the absence of any wolf cries or sounds of other large predators helped preserve that calmness of mind. Anyway, I had plenty of branches to feed the fire, so I focused on that. Animals usually avoided fire and humans, I told myself.

But because I did not know where exactly I was I naturally feared the unknown. Were there also poisonous snakes or spiders here in the forest? Logically those animals would be still hibernating because of the cold, but I was nervous about such things nonetheless. I had always feared snakes – my reactions almost bordered on a phobia. In my defense I can say that they just do not sit well with me, especially near my feet.

I shuddered at the thought and turned my gaze to the sky. Silvery stars were shining above the leafless crowns of the trees, but the darkness seemed almost impenetrable. I had rarely experienced such a black night before. There was no indication of light pollution, no blinking red lights of airplanes… It struck me as odd, but I chalked it up to the very limited area of the sky I could see and the relative seclusion of this area.

"You should probably sleep another couple of hours", I told myself, but somehow I couldn't really follow the advice now that I was wide awake. The ground was unmercifully hard therefore the prospect of lying down again did not appeal to me. I missed my sleeping bag. It was a thousand times better than the hard ground. And my stomach demanded a light snack since the dinner had not sufficiently made up for the meager lunch. So, I sacrificed a few slices of dried apples; I had hoped to make them last longer, but they were comfort food and I needed that more than ever. Desperate times called for desperate measures after all.

Since I was unable to fall back asleep, my thoughts drifted back to the unexplained event that had put me in this position in the first place. I was still unsure how to rationalize what had happened; and how to explain that to my parents…

_They'll never let me out of their sight for a year. I'd be lucky to walk my aunt's dog!_

The thought made me cringe, but I could sympathize with them. If it were my kid… well, I might have done something even more drastic. Think a GPS chip or something similar. But I was certainly not looking forward to fifteen calls a day. I had no idea who would be worse – my mom or dad. I never knew beforehand who would be more hysterical. I just hoped April would not get blamed for what happened. Who could have known I'd get sucked down a wormhole or something like it?

**OoOoO Alone OoOoO**

I do not know when I drifted away, but I woke up early the next morning. The sky was barely changing color and mists rolled up the slopes when I blinked awake. The ground was covered in dew that clung to branches and spring grass. My breath produced a small cloud of perspiration in the cold air, so I quickly stroked the fire back to life. Before it managed to return to the condition I had fallen asleep to, I was shivering under my jacket. But the small cave had warmed up in the night from my body heat and the fire, so the temperature had to be even lower outside. I only thanked God I had had the mind to gather a lot of firewood, so I did not need to search for more.

I dragged my backpack close and dug out a small pan and whatever else I needed for breakfast. Something warm was a must in these conditions; hot tea in particularly sounded like heaven. I had enough tea bags with me to prepare a large batch that would remain warm for several hours in my canteen. It was better to boil any water anyway; even if it came from a mountain spring.

All those preparations took time, but because I woke up very early, I was confident I'd reach the valleys before nightfall. So I cooked half a cup of barley and added dried meat to the finished meal. Hot water softened it and I had a very filling breakfast. Since I knew I'd have to eat the old bread before it turned moldy, I decided to prepare two sandwiches with my provisions. It would do for a meal on the road, I told myself.

Once I was properly fed and watered, I turned my attention to my clothing and hygiene. My innermost layers of clothing had been soaked through the previous day, so they had to go if I wanted to avoid smelling more than I already did. Old sweat made them itchy, so I desired a change for that reason too. My backpack held many pieces of clothing, so that was not a problem. It was the icy cold air I dreaded – it would chill me to the bone once I removed the outer layers. With a rarely used speed I got rid of my underwear and T-Shirt, but I kept the old jeans and sweater. Those were not close to my skin, so I could use them for several days. It would not be exactly sanitary or smell pleasant, but I wanted to dirty as few clothes as possible. People would certainly appreciate it once I got to civilization, I thought. Fresh socks were a must though, or I'd get fresh blisters on top of those I already had. Each of my feet sported at least two band-aids already. I always got blisters easily, so these hiking boots were really good if I had only a few after days of walking. The previous pair had peeled the skin of my heels in less than half an hour! So I took good care of my feet and shoes when they were the thing I relied on the most. They'd get me to safety.

With this thought I decided to take stock of what I had with me regarding first aid. I had a box with the basic things and plenty of band-aids, but nothing that would help me should I take a serious fall. This sobered me and I realized just how smart it was of me to travel slowly. I placed it on the top of my backpack in case I'd need it and pocketed a small knife if I'd decide to make myself a staff along the way. It was very useful for firewood too.

What surprised me was a paperback novel at the bottom of the backpack. _At least you know what to use the next time you need kindling, _was my first reaction. I could hardly run out of paper – one of my thick sketchbooks functioned as additional support for the backpack. I had had hoped to use it at the Native site even though photos would have sufficed for any inspirational motifs. But what kind of an Art major would be satisfied with only photos for reference? Therefore I also had my pencils and ink with me – they hardly took up much space anyway. But now I wished I had my sleeping bag with me instead of these things. At least I could sell my camera in case I needed money for additional travel. Since I had no idea in which country I have landed in that could turn out to be the case easily. Who would believe my crazy story anyway?

But my backpack held more things than that. I had several T-Shirts, wife-beaters, sweaters, additional jeans and sweatpants, and enough underwear for several days; two towels and scarves, a bag of toiletries and several hair accessories. I had plastic storage containers for food and other things that have to remain dry. All in all it was quite full – and certainly heavy enough! What annoyed me was the realization I'd forgotten my flashlight. I could have smacked myself. I distinctly remember April insisting I take one with me, but it seemed I had misplaced it when I packed. How fortunate of me that I had not decided to travel in the night!

_Stupid, stupid!_

I did have my mp3-player and a bunch of batteries, but somehow I doubted they would be of much use to me in the wilderness. It would have been nice to have a compass… What was that proverb with wishes and beggars? _If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. _It was the same here.

The water in the pot boiled, so I pulled it away from the fire and added several teabags. My stomach did not take kindly to strong teas or coffees in the morning, so I did not drink much of it, but poured it inside the empty canteen. By then my bladder was so full I had to hurry behind a nearby bush where I had relieved myself the previous night. I still had a roll of toilet paper – no leaves for me. This part of the outdoors always sucked, especially in the cold, but I was used to it now. It would have been really awkward without the toilet paper though. I nonetheless took care to cover everything with some fresh earth. No need to leave the paper out in the open.

By now the morning had clearly arrived. The prognosis for the day seemed to be sunny, cold weather once the mists would scatter with the wind. I was glad it wouldn't fog up again. I had enough of that to last me a lifetime.

I packed the blanket and the extra jacket and carefully doused out the fire with the remaining water from my second flask. I'd have to find a stream soon, I reminded myself as I tucked it back in. I was out of water. The idea of a quick wash – _face and feet would suffice, really_ – did not sound amiss too. If the experience of the previous day was anything to go by, I'd find plenty of quick streams. But that was not to be said about dry firewood. That prompted me to pack the remaining twigs and branches and haul them along. The weight on my shoulders was significant, but my achy back could handle even more weight if I put my mind to it. But the bundle of twigs swathed in a plastic bag looked ridiculous as it swung with the movement of my steps. Luckily for me this was not a fashion show but pure survival. Not that I would care – not much anyway.

I've put my hair into a messy bun so the tail end of my ponytail wouldn't hinder me like the previous day. It prevented tangles from forming too – it had been a bitch to get them out once I woke up. That's what I got for letting it dry by the fire without combing it out first.

The path was getting rougher the lower I got. In my desire to reach safety as soon as possible, I've wandered into a really difficult territory. My path was cut off by big rocks, deep gorges and other obstacles that I had to overcome. I got plenty of water when I passed several streams, but these same streams soon formed waterfalls, said gorges and other unpleasant surprises. It got so bad I had to travel back several times or even up the stream to find a safe passage across them. It was bloody infuriating! I barely progressed towards my goal. The path eventually got beet once I got over this area and I entered a more plain forest ground. It sure was very steep at times, but at least I did not need to climb or make detours anymore. Nice, steady curves to get down slowly on slippery ground. One of those narrow paths in the mountains would have felt like a bloody pedestrian zone in some areas!

I called a halt when my tired legs protested too much. It was a hard road – even my hands could testify to that. I was covered in dirt and little nicks from the rough bark where I had grabbed for hold. But I still did not make myself a staff. It would have slowed me down where I had to use all limbs available to move forward.

I chose a nice place for my rest – near a small spring, so I was able to wash up too. Warm tea was lovely on my parched throat and my shoulders were very grateful for a few stretches. When I got rid of the backpack, I realized I was soaked through – again. I changed my wife-beater and let it dry in the air, but reluctantly pulled on the smelly T-shirt and sweater.

I lounged there for half an hour perhaps, then packed back up. The snack I've enjoyed helped me get moving too. Still, I was not looking forward to grueling hours of walking. I wanted to rest and wait for the rescue team to pick me up. It bothered me that I hadn't heard a single helicopter the entire morning. I thought April and her group had contacted someone by now. I wondered what this silence could mean. They were here, weren't they?

The ground began to change in the afternoon. There was more shrubbery and grass everywhere, even meadows in some areas that looked like a fire had burned them down some years before. The temperatures here were slightly higher too when compared to the one further up the mountain. This resulted in different kinds of trees, more deciduous trees than coniferous. Fresh green color peaked through the dried grass. I believe there were several kinds of spring flowers growing from the humid earth, but I did not recognize them.

My estimations about sheepherding and farming in the valleys were proving to be truer by every mile of pastures I could see. Although no animals were there since it was early spring and the grass had barely began to grow once again, it was not hard to imagine these large parts of grassland to be full of cattle in summer time. There were no dwellings to be seen, but I hoped that would change soon. I was sure I saw a tiny tendril of smoke somewhere in the distance too, but I could not tell from where it originated from. But even if it were a wildfire, I would have thought it to be human made. I needed to see a human face again - badly. I needed answers. A farmer inspecting the cheese dairy would have been enough to relieve my fears.

I managed to move down towards the valleys with remarkable speed ever since I got over that difficult territory. All the hard work of the morning seemed to have paid off in this beautiful stretch of the forest that led me almost directly down towards salvation. I was just passing along a line of thick bushes that were forming a natural fence at the edge of a twelve feet high cliff that separated the forest and ground into two levels when everything went to hell. I was perhaps only a mile from the edge of the woods and near the highest located meadow too.

I had been moving silently on my path - the ground here was hard and no leaves rustled under my feet – reeling with the prospect of civilization or just being out in t he open again. I knew there'd be an opening or a path down this cliff somewhere. I was just moving inside a natural groove, hidden from sight, when I was shocked almost to death by a loud battle cry. The unexpected roar echoed in the air for a split second before all hell broke loose.

A scream, stuck somewhere in my throat and trying to find a way out, was only a muffled squeak as I sprawled on the ground, instinctively searching for cover. It took me a moment to realize the cry came from below – under the cliff I was on. But the sound of enraged male voices and cries of pain had me almost frozen. It came on so suddenly I had no idea what hit me.

_Jesus!__What's going on? Where the hell have I landed in?_

A clang of steel was heard and cries in some strange language I did not recognize. My heart relocated to my throat, my breathing sounded harsh to my ears even when the screams and cries seemed to drown everything in their noise. The absence of gunshots registered only dimly in my mind as the sound of the dying had me sick in horror. The wet thuds of bodies falling to the ground made bile rise in my throat.

"There are people dying down there!" my mind screamed; utter confusion and horror making me freeze. I was unable to move, to think, to escape... I clung to the straps of my backpack, praying to whatever deity had watched over me thus far to spare some of that care a bit longer.

_Please, God! I don't want to die! _

White as a sheet, tiny dots of perspiration on my brow and my hands shaking like a hundred years old grandma, I trembled in my hiding spot. I thought I would loose the meager bit of food I had eaten in the next seconds as I listened to the screams and blows. The gurgling sounds of someone's throat being sliced open had me closing my eyes and thickly swallowing down the bile that refused to stay in my stomach. I barely managed to override the urge to hurl as a second person met the same fate. I could not listen to this!

I wanted to cover my ears, drown out the horror of the situation, but I was too scared to breathe. When I thought it would never be over, cries of victory were heard. I held onto the straps with a white-knuckled grip as I crouched in the groove, my other hand curled protectively around my rebelling stomach. I barely managed not to cry hysterically in fear. I have no idea how long the fight lasted. I realized only later that it was over fairly quickly, but to my own perception it had lasted too long. Every second was stretched into minutes in my memories.

_Don't you dare whimper now!_

My nerves were strung so high the smallest push could make me loose control. Silent tears were not enough and stifled sobs threatened to turn out into full blown cries; I firmly pushed my mouth shut with both hands. I tried not to move, not to make a sound. I could be the next meeting my maker, if the men heard me in the short silence that had settled over the place. It did not last long because a deep voice spoke up and issued several commands. Someone was moaning in pain, while another one rushed through the forest – leaves rustling under his feet. A few long moments later (maybe even minutes), I heard the unmistakable sound of bodies being dragged on the ground. I would have whimpered in fear, but I barely dared to breathe now. I did not believe that their subdued conversation would muffle any sounds I'd make.

_Please don't let them find me, please… Oh, God, don't let them find me!_

This mantra was the only thing keeping me together. I had never even seen somebody die of old age and now I've heard a brutal murder of at least a couple of men… Where in the world had I landed in? What kind of a god-forgotten place was this?

The desire to stay alive helped me push panic away. I managed to dry my tears and in a Herculean effort even ignore the smell of blood that had drifted to me on the wind. I could still not believe murder happened not twenty feet away from me. I had to concentrate real hard on silent and slow breathing to get my fear in control. Staying undetected was a must now – I was a witness to the crime. So, was it smart to continue my journey in the way I had planned? I couldn't possibly go to this valley now – god knows if I'd get out of there alive. _Was it mafia? A drug cartel, perhaps?_ I had no answers needed to decide what to do.

_Don't analyze now, don't think – breathe, stay down, and don't dare imagine you won't get away! _

But my mind was brimming with ideas, fears and strange movie scenes. It is no wonder the very next question to pop into my mind was: "What if they search the surroundings?" The mere idea sped my heartbeat into a crescendo.

I felt so helpless! I could do nothing – nothing to help those people, nothing to help myself! I was always fighting for human rights, raising awareness on issues ranging from medical care in Africa and Asia, trafficking, problems regarding wars and refugees, political prisoners and women's rights. This zeal for humanity brought me nods from teachers while most of my mates in high school had other things on their minds. I have always respected human life, therefore the amount of self-loathing I felt when confronted with violation of these rights and my inability to help was not inconsiderable.

_Forgive me… I couldn't do anything…_

But the fact was there was nothing I could have done and now it was too late. They were dead. I could hear their murderers talking with one another, their voices urgent and gruff. The language was strange, even melodic which I though a terrible slight when coupled with their brutal actions, but I didn't recognize a single word of it. The moaning man was being tended to, if his hisses and reproachful words were any indication. Obviously, he wasn't hurt too much if he could curse like this. Then one of them brought with him horses – their whinnies and sound of hooves unmistakable. This only made the whole situation sound worse – what kind of place used horses for transportation? Was I in some third world country? The last vestiges of optimism I had left from the previous day evaporated like smoke.

I guessed from the sounds that several of them mounted the horses and rode off in different directions, but I could only hope they would not come near my hiding place. But the men remaining in the meadow were preventing me from moving away. I had to find out how many were there and if there was anything that would tell me where the hell I was.

Carefully, I slid my arms from the straps of the backpack, being mindful of any noise I made. I crept along the soft ground to peek at them underneath the bare bushes where the depression had a small window in the rock. I knew that the colors of my clothing would hide my presence – I was mostly covered in greens and browns now that I had removed the headband that was a violet and white check pattern.

I peeked from amid the thick branches and saw seven men standing among the dead bodies, which were placed in two rows. I swallowed thickly at the sight of blood and gore even from this distance. _Oh sweet mother of..._I closed my eyes and swallowed down the bile which rose up again. _Get a grip! _I grit my teeth and bravely opened my eyes again.

What really made me pause after the first shock wore off was their clothing. It was bizarre. I guess I could describe it as medieval. The murderers were dressed in black and dark green, the dead in different colors of brown and red. And if I had any questions as to why there were no gunshots, there was also an obvious answer. They had fought with _swords_ and _bows_! These were the weapons they held in their hands. No mistake.

For a moment I thought I was going crazy... I couldn't really believe my eyes. If it weren't for the stench and real blood (and the absence of a filming crew), I would have thought this was a move scene – but this was too real. Way too real…

The words of the description of the Native site ran through my mind again. "A gateway to another plane. A place of spiritual travel, where different _worlds_ meet._"_

My first reaction was: "You got to be kidding me! Different worlds in the literal sense?" This was _so_ fucked up in so many ways I could hardly start explaining. I couldn't freaking believe it! Had April gone completely mad suggesting this trip? I had ended up in some bizarre place stuck in the middle age for Christ' sake!

_I sincerely hope that is not the case! I'm not stuck here! _

I had been fairly sure I was still in my century and on Earth when this began, but now I had my doubts on both cases. I'd still be more comfortable (if one could be that in this situation) if I was on Earth, even in the bloody middle ages. Somehow I got the feeling this was not the case. Those people had a serious lack of any heraldic symbols or signs of their religion. The language itself was _very_ strange. I had to get answers; preferably without loosing my life in the process…

Just as slowly as moving to the edge I crawled back to my backpack. They would leave – they had to. I was not going to spend the night here! But _when_ they moved, I would have only a few minutes to investigate the site for clues. I doubted they'd leave the bodies like that; not if they wanted to conceal the crime. But going down there would be risky – very risky. Even my own shoes could betray my presence there. I doubted they could miss the distinctive pattern of hiking boots in the mud.

Much to my surprise they did indeed leave half an hour later. And they did not bury or burn the bodies. I had no idea what to think about that, so I rather concentrated on everything I'd have to pay attention to. I counted down the time by singing songs in my mind – I would not move until I was sure nobody would return because they forgot something. I was smart enough to investigate if there was a guard anywhere, but it seemed there was not. _Strange._

But I got a good look at the scene – and I had to bite down my anger when I saw how they left those poor men. They were lying sprawled on the ground as they fell; those bastards had not possessed even one small bit of humanity in their hearts to cover their faces or offer them a proper burial. I had hoped they had taken the bodies with them when a last group with horses came, but apparently they had decided that honoring the fallen was above their black hearts. I was angry - more than twenty men against seven unprepared victims - and they left them to rot there!

_Megan, this is the reality of warfare.__You know this, you know what hate can do to men. Who knows what quarrel they had with one another? Leave it be…_

But I could not swallow this down. This was abominable! I had to do something for these men – it was my responsibility to offer them what every man deserves – a proper burial. Their families deserved as much. I could and wished not to write them away as mere casualties, cold numbers in history archives. I had _heard_ them die; I was here when they were slaughtered!

With determined steps I searched for a path down the cliff and finally found it after approximately half an hour. I climbed down the steep stone path, still cautious of every unknown or strange sound. Even my anger could not override the new lecture life had given me – danger lurked everywhere and no one was safe in this strange world.

But whatever fate had in store for me, I was determined to not go down easily. I was only a student, lost and scared, but I was nonetheless no shrinking violet. When I set my mind on something then I got it done, damn it.

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Review, please. :D**


	3. Death and Danger in the Air

**A/N: Warning – this chapter contains some religious context. For the purpose of the story I've used Psalm 23 (David's psalm) in one scene. My source is Wikipedia, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. I'm not religious myself, but I find some prayers put emotions and sentiments into words with outmost eloquence. **

**Edited: 20.8.2010**

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Chapter Two: Death and Danger in the Air**

**or: Running for your life**

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Since half an hour passed when I had dared to move away from my hiding spot, I estimated that the soldiers left an hour ago. Their continued absence instilled some confidence in my belief that they were not coming back. But I was not stupid enough to trust this any more than I believed I was still in Canada.

Still, the way they quickly left the area had me worried someone else was on the prowl here. Someone _they_ feared. But what or who chased them away was not important; I knew from that moment on that people of this world were a threat - one that I had to avoid at all costs. So I was ready to run at the slightest sound of human activity near me. However, that could not prevent me from going to the site. I had to find out more about this world and get a way home as soon as possible. Now that posed a dilemma. I feared meeting people. But I had no choice but to search the bodies and give the dead some sort of respectful burial.

My emotions were all over the place when I got closer to the site. I was divided between righteous anger, sadness, fear and the most exhilarating rush of adrenaline. No amount of violence on TV could prepare someone for what had happened. Even the harsh stories from war-torn countries cannot compare to the actual experience. Now I understood how refugees could run for miles in fear, how witnesses to all the carnage and the ugliness of the world felt… It was not a pretty feeling. It was like I've swallowed something nasty that made my whole body feel dirty and violated. As a girl brought up in a peaceful town and a student living in a safe district of the city, I had been relatively protected form the harsh reality of the world. The change was brutal. Truly, the dark side of humankind was black as the blackest pit. I definitely couldn't risk the 'kill first, ask questions later' policy the men seemed to favor. But maybe I had jumped to hasty conclusions.

_What if they had a reason for their actions? Were those men they killed criminals? _

I instantly pushed such thoughts firmly aside. "Murder was wrong from ancient times on – none of that 'for the greater good' bullshit, Megan!"I reprimanded myself. I really had to get my facts straight. Hasty conclusions could only hurt me. Sometimes I thought too well of people that did not deserve it, and did not give a second chance to those who did. I considered that one of my greatest flaws. I had to get there soon or the suspense would drive me mad!

It was almost a suspiciously easy trek to the location under the cliff after I got down from the upper level. The ground was hard and pretty even for going downhill. A big bush hid me from the site when I emerged from the forest. I hesitated.

A thorough check of the area revealed no one. Yet I was still hesitant to actually step out in the open. The smell of the blood and other gore was hanging thickly in the air, making me swallow back the bile that constantly rose up against my will. Since it was very cold, there would not be flies crawling over the bodies yet – for that I was thankful in advance. I know not what I would have done otherwise. I doubt I could have taken it in stride.

With a deep sigh I gathered my resolve and stepped out of the cover. The bodies were lying on the ground, aligned in two lines the men had dragged them into and let down. Their limbs were lying in a haphazard fashion where they had fallen down once they released them. It was a gruesome sight that made tears run down my face.

"Do you really wish to see this?" I had to ask myself. The answer was no, but I owed it to them at least. I did not come all the way from the cliffs to turn back before I had done what I came to do. No matter how hard it would be those people deserved at least some kind of burial. But why had my stomach clenched so painfully in protest?

I carefully slid down my backpack and lay it beside the rocks near the bush before moving forward. The first steps showed determination, but very soon they turned very soft and slow, hesitant. When I reached the first line I had to swallow down a new wave of tears. The men's clothing was torn and blood-smeared. Bruised flesh, gapping wounds and pain-etched faces with eyes left open was what I saw. The scent of blood was now accompanied with some other gruesome fragrance; perhaps the torn intestines from the sword wounds? I did not wish to contemplate that. What did make me frown was the realization that these men had considerably darker skin that their murderers.

_Racial murders? Invasion? _I did not know, but this made me even angrier. Such color prejudice was cowardly and stupid. And what was sadder was the fact that they were very young; in their mid twenties perhaps. It was such a stupid loss of young life.

Deep chocolate eyes, glossed over with death, were frightening in their emptiness. How could eyes turn so dull once the spirit left the body? The sight would haunt my dreams for weeks, burned as it was in my memory forever more. I tried to look for survivors, someone still clinging to life, but they were all dead, slaughtered viciously. I fought the horror that had turned my face ashen pale. There was nothing left to do than to bury them.

I leaned over the first man in the second row, trying to reach for his arm to arrange it better. Unfortunately, what my eyes alighted upon was not what I had imagined. His right limb was a mess of blood and raw flesh, barely hanging on to the body. Bile rose up in my throat. I scrambled to my feet and barely managed to make a few steps before I threw up my meager meal. I coughed and coughed, heaved and cried. I could not believe what I saw – it was worse than any horror movie I ever had the misfortune to watch.

I must have been almost chalk-like after I stopped dry-heaving. With shaking hands I searched for my water bottle to rinse my mouth. It took some time before I was able to rise up again, but I returned back. _You owe them to do what is right. Be brave..._I told myself over and over again. With shaky hands I closed their eyes, silently praying in my mind. It has been so long since I've said a prayer that I had trouble remembering the words. But I always believed it was the sentiment that mattered even though I was not religious.

Nevertheless, I dared not do more with bodies right away since my queasiness returned, but rather observed what was lying on the ground. There were bows (most of them broken), arrows and several knifes. Some of them had blood on them that was dried and crusty. There were even pouches scattered around and they got my full attention. _Maybe I will get my answers, find out who these men are!_

The pouches were made of leather and were quite handy for outdoors since they were impervious to weather and kept their contents dry. I opened the first one while silently asking forgiveness. I felt like I was committing a crime, snooping around like that. Inside was a small bag of potatoes (seven when I counted them), a bit of old bread, dried meat and some cheese. A water-skin lay not far away. There were no papers, nothing to tell me where I was. But that was not surprising since the murderers had gone through them too, if the small torn piece of paper and an ink bottle I found were any proof. It seems they did not need the food. I on the other hand took it with a heavy heart.

_They won't need it anymore, stop being so sentimental… _I chastised.

I carefully wrapped my bounty in one of the pouches that was not smeared with blood and took it to my backpack where I stacked it into the main compartment. The leather pouch was full with food that should sustain me for at least a week and half with careful planning. The potatoes were a blessing in disguise since they wouldn't spoil that quickly. There was even a bit of dried fruit, but it looked quite dry and was thus not taken by the soldiers. I doubt they would have left it otherwise. It seemed the dark-skinned men were living off rations or they had similar taste regarding food since the contents of the pouches were almost identical. They carried a lot of dried meat of some kind; it was probably meant for the days when they couldn't hunt.

The lack of a fire in the clearing had me mystified though. _Were they hiding here in the woods?_ They obviously had made camp here, if the blankets placed on the ground were any indication, but there was no sign of collected firewood and nothing to tell me how they would have lighted it. Was this the reason for the soldiers' retreat? I did not know. But perhaps someone of the attacked got away? Was it the reason the soldiers left so quickly? I did not know and it made me nervous.

I had to be extra careful – I was a witness and a stranger here. I doubt either side of the conflict would look upon me kindly. I knew that the fire I had made the previous day couldn't have possibly alerted them to my presence here, but if there was more than one group of men lurking about, I couldn't be so sure about it.

So I picked up a few knifes – I had a feeling it would be wise to get a weapon or two in case anything happened. But the question was why didn't those soldiers take them? Why would they leave perfectly good knifes lying around? _Are they planning on returning?_

The question raised a few red flags in my mind. I hurried to finish what I had come here to do. I still had every intention of giving the men some sort of a proper farewell, but making graves was out of the question in this case. Not that I carried a shovel with me, but even covering them with fir branches would delay me too long and make too much noise. I felt bad for abandoning them like this, but I had to look out for my skin first.

A torn piece of cloth hung on one of the bushes beside a small pool of blood and I plucked it down without touching any of the rusty liquid on the floor. With this cloth I cleaned the knives. The handles were made from some sort of hard wood that darkened with wear, but the blades were well-taken care off and sharp. They were obviously handmade and sported no industry seal on them, not even a mark of a master craftsman. That was odd for a medieval society that highly regulated any production through guilds - further point for the 'another world' theory.

If this place was as dangerous as I suspected it was, I needed weapons and rather long-range ones than close-range knives. I was certainly no martial artist, but I knew some basics of handling the bow since I had taken up kyudo half a year ago. But this form of Japanese archery was used more as a meditation technique rather than actual archery training, so I had my doubts how well it would serve me. Further obstacle was the fact that what I found were not Japanese bows called yumi; they were the more wide-spread longbows. The problem was that in traditional Japanese archery the strength of the fingers was not the deciding factor in handling the bow, but in the longbows it certainly was. Not to speak of the shape or the purpose of the bow. There was very little I could do with a weapon suited to the needs of a stronger and taller man. I did not have the arm strength needed for it. But I did not give up on the idea – even if the bow was clumsy to deal with, it was better to have it than not. I only hoped the situation when I would be forced to use it would never come up.

There were four shattered bows – obviously, the men had tried to defend themselves from the swords when they were ambushed. Two had their strings cut, but appeared to be alright on the surface. Internal cracks would be revealed only once they were restrung, so I did not place my hopes in them. Only one survived his master with no visible damage. So, I could say I had three bows to choose from once I strung them all again with the additional string I found. So, I took them even though my load was getting quite heavy. How I'd be carrying all these things with me? The quiver with arrows was quite large and the remaining arrows filled it up even though I had to discard most of them.

In less than twenty minutes I had everything ready. The only thing left to do was what I had initially come for. I hoped that my stomach had settled for good and that my nose got used to the strong smell. It was time to show respect to the men that had unknowingly given me their food and provided me with weapons. I even took one of the best woolen blankets that had remained gore-free. I was deeply grateful for any item that could protect me form the cold, but I did not take more than I could carry.

I prepared myself for the task ahead. Fortunately, rigor mortis has not yet locked their limbs in the position the murderers had placed them, but a slight stiffness of muscles was already apparent when I tried to move their hands. Where I could, I arranged their hands on their stomach and added a weapon to honor their status. I did notice that their short-swords were missing – empty sheaths were quite revealing of that fact. But it was not so obvious when I placed a pouch there. I did not want people to think they were robbed of everything. But it was hard to miss the arrow shafts protruding from their bodies where I had broken them off. And I had to do something about their faces. Their skin was streaked with mud when they had fallen to the ground and splattered with blood from their wounds and fighting; I could hardly leave them like that. I had a linen handkerchief (a gift form April's Cousin Claire) that I intended to use to remedy that. It was the only article of cloth that was not already smeared that I had.

As dirt and dried blood was removed layer by layer, a young face with dark brown whiskers was revealed. He had dark brown eyes too, I remembered, but a shade or two different from mine. With a heavy heart I did the same to the other men. If there was some personal item tied around their wrists, I cleaned it too. It was a sad job and one that mounted my anger at their murderers every time I had to wash the handkerchief. It was colored pink and brown from the blood and grime quickly.

The various injuries still tried to turn my stomach, but there was a certain cold peace to be found in the ritual of cleaning away the grime. Most of them had died from injuries to the chest, so clothing could hide it well. But there were two who had died from injuries to the neck and head. Those were the hardest to be cleaned since there was so much blood. I could do little for their hair, matted with crusty blood as it was, but in the end they were looking human once again.

I stood up silently, putting the handkerchief down near the water-skins, and looked upon the men. I had managed to do a good job – they seemed somehow a small bit more at peace than before, or my perception had shifted. It was time to say something touching, offer a prayer for their souls. I took a ragged breath when my eyes burned once again with tears I had held back the entire time. _But what can I say when I don't not know them at all?_

_Which prayer should I use? _I asked myself and it was a hard question to answer. I was not religious, but I did visit the church with my grandmother at Easter when she took a basket with colored eggs, horse radish, smoked ham and homemade white bread to be blessed by the priest, as was the custom. It was a time when our family came together once again after Christmas and when my grandmother could anew use her skills in the kitchen to prepare the best breakfast with the food she took to the church. It was a time when you saw old women with their grandchildren taking nicely decorated baskets with them; sometimes the smaller children carrying their own colored eggs in tiny baskets to be placed before the altar.

I knew some of the prayers but when the time came to speak them aloud over the still bodies I could not decide which would be more appropriate. I finally decided upon David's Psalm that I remembered the best of all and sank to my knees on the dry and clean spot before them.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen," I stated and made a Sign of the Cross while speaking. I clasped my hands together then began to recite the words. Even then I did this with slight hesitation in my voice. I hoped the men would forgive me if I had unknowingly offended them; there was nothing indicating their own belief, so my prayers had to suffice to send their souls to the other world.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

My voice began to shake when I continued, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

I really hoped someone protected me in this place, but since I was not really religious there was little comfort I got from the prayers. I wiped away the remnants of my tears with a sleeve and carefully folded together the damp and stained handkerchief – their blood would never come out again, I knew. I would leave it as a sign of my presence here, hopefully appeasing their spirits for not being able to give them more of a funeral.

"I hope your people know where you are and will come for you," I said to them and gently put the folded cloth under the hands of the first young man. His face was burned into my mind – he really had not deserved to die so young. I sighed loudly in regret and sadness. "Rest in peace…" I said.

As I straightened back up there was a noise in the woods that had me lift up my face sharply from the bodies. It was a crack, quite distinctive crack of a twig on the forest ground. How many times had I heard them snap under my own feet?

Then another cracked under someone's foot and quite quickly after the first one. I panicked. I could hear the rustle of leaves and knew someone was running towards the clearing. Whoever it was, he was yet quite away, but still too close for my taste to remain here any longer.

_Oh, god - what if they have__returned? Please, not now! Oh, please let me get away!_

I scrambled to my feet and barely managed to grab everything I had packed when I was already running away into the forest. I tried to make as little noise as possible to hide my position, but I knew there was no chance in hell I've not been heard already. I was tearing through the underbrush like a maniac, scared out of my mind of who had found the clearing in its changed state. My presence was betrayed by the bodies I had so carefully arranged – so much for being smart…

"Damn! Me and my stupid compassion!" I cursed myself under my breath as I stopped to lift the backpack onto my shoulders and secure the straps hastily. There was not much heat behind the words though. I fervently hoped I had managed to get out of sight, but I was deeply concerned about the prints. The soles of my boots left quite a track behind. _Anyone_ would be able to follow it with ease. I had to get to hard ground – and quickly!

I ran up the path I had taken before – there was a bend that would cover me. The ground was hard enough not to leave any footprints there too. I had to run, run for my life!

Just as I disappeared behind the aforementioned bend, voices were heard – someone was exclaiming in surprise and I knew there was more than one person after me. The bushes and leaves rustled and I sprinted along the path with all the power in my legs I could muster. There were even horses heard again!

_Shit! Shit! Shit! What have I done?_

The backpack was heavy and bothersome. The load of firewood and the new blanket hanging on the outside were tightly knotted to it to prevent it from falling down, so they did not move too much, but their bulk slowed me down. On one hand I was happy I had not left half of my things behind, but on the other one I believed a little less would have made me faster. The leather quiver with the arrows was dangling at my left side, but the bows were bound together and carried in my hand – a very cumbersome idea. It was hard to run weighted down like this, but fear is a great motivator, so I almost flew over the roots and rocks. If only my P.E. teachers could see me! I doubt they would have recognized the girl that was always one of the slowest ones when sprinting. I could run long distances, but speed was never my strength. Now I needed it! Curse the genetics!

_Good damn it woman! Run!_

My heartbeat reverberated in my ears, but I still heard the rustling of leaves, cries in deep male voices in the same strange and unknown language as before. I had no idea where to turn to! It seemed they were everywhere!

_No! I won't give up!_

I had no intention of getting caught, so I rushed at full speed – going deeper into the forest. It was my only chance. They would not look for me very long – they had other things to take care of. Well, at least I sincerely hoped they had…

My boots hit the ground loudly, betraying my position with all the noise I made, but I had no brilliant ideas. It was a dangerous situation – I was tired from walking the entire day, I had shorter legs, and I was a woman. I seriously doubted there was much going in my favor. What were the chances of escaping them? The forest hid my presence and the colors of my clothes and packs only helped to camouflage me, yet I knew it was a lost cause. I had to be quicker and also smarter than my pursuers, which was nary an impossible feat. I slowed down to catch my breath, leaning on a young tree.

"_There! There is one!"_

A cry I did not understand suddenly rang out closer to me than I had expected. A few whistles were heard that meant only one thing – they had me in sight. I did not look back, my instincts raised the alarm – it was flight or death! I was running before I even knew what I was doing. The path I was on would lead me along the cliffs, steadily rising upwards. I could never run as long as that! I already felt my strength waning with each step taken up-hill. I had to think of something else. Even my pursuers did not waste their breath calling, only running. One thing was clear though – they did not know the forest any better than I. If they did – I would have been caught by now or at least cut off from any paths to safety.

My existence narrowed down to the rhythm of my breaths, the bump of my backpack and the thumping of my feet. I think I had never before run like that – not even when competing with my mates for some silly reason I no longer recalled.

"_Halt! In the name of the Steward, stop!"_ someone cried again in a breathy voice.

I pushed harder – if they had enough breath to call then they sure had enough to catch me and I did not wish to die. Not yet, _not now…_ My breaths acquired that wheezy quality that told me I would have to slow down soon, but I could not heed this sign.

_Run! Run, you stupid girl! Get away! … Faster! You must go faster! Jump over that branch! Now turn around the corner – quickly! Follow that path down there! Watch out..._

I jumped down from the rock I had almost stumbled at and followed unmarked trails which lead away from the cliffs and deeper into the woods. This was my chance to shake them off I hoped with all my heart. I knew they'd loose me in the labyrinth of trunks and bushes, if only I was smart enough. Those men were soldiers and probably very good trackers. I knew enough of history to know people lived off hunting, so they definitely knew how to read tracks. My boots were a real disadvantage here, but I could not just pull them off and hope to get safely out of here barefoot! It was imperative I find rocks, water and hard ground!

_Turn there! Around that tree, to the left… Now hide in this dell… keep going!_

Once I ducked down out of sight, I relaxed for a second. I could slow down a bit in the safety of the dell, but that did not mean I dared to walk just yet. I was not out of danger, but I had to give my body a respite. Their footsteps were still heard over my rapid breathing, the leaves rustling on the ground. I swallowed hard, feeling the rapid beating of my heart deep in my throat. It truly felt as if it had relocated to my throat.

I could feel tears in my eyes – I was so over my head in this! I had no idea where I was running to; there was nothing to help me in this fight. By some miracle I managed to preserve my direction and continued to run towards west, away from the men. It was as if some instinct told me safety was there.

Then there was suddenly a wonderful sight before me. A large field of big boulders and ancient trees opened up to me. In some long ago era a big landslide had moved large rocks from the mountain and left behind a giant's playground. This was the perfect opportunity to hide my tracks! I ran over the big flat rocks, around their giant brothers covered with lichens and moss, barely leaving behind prints after my boots had lost the bit of mud clinging to the soles. I was safely running in this picturesque labyrinth, hidden from view by the very rocks blocking my path. Any other time I would have spent an entire afternoon admiring the scene. Even on the run I could not help but feel my spirits lift by the sight.

The men began to call out anew to each other, sounding further away, but I did not succumb to the temptation of slowing down. No - I had to push forward when I had the upper hand. I thanked the wonderful place for helping me and rushed deeper into the forest. I moved up, deeper into the mountains and away from men in the valleys. I still searched for water to be absolutely sure they would not find my tracks again. I wondered if they suspected what I would do. Would they turn there too?

I could not guess how long they would persist in hunting me, so I tried to get as far as possible before night would force me to hide away somewhere and wait for daylight. It was getting harder to push myself into a fast walk or a light jog. Adrenaline is a heady thing, but starts loosing its effect soon. Too much time had passed for it to continue pushing fatigue away. My muscles burned with strain. The air was icy as it seared my lungs full with heated blood – they felt as if on fire and every breath I took was almost agony. Sweat clung to my brow and small rivulets ran along my hairline, cooling me off slightly. I was hot and uncomfortable, my back wet under the backpack, but all this had to be forgotten, pushed aside.

I could still hear their whistles on the wind and I had a suspicion that some of them were on horses, even though I had not clearly heard the sound of hoofs, but that could have been chalked up to the soft ground. So I had to continue.

In a quarter of an hour, or half an hour (who could be sure under these circumstances), I suddenly heard a wonderful sound; it was the sound of a merry spring! My heart jumped in excitement.

_YES! JACKPOT!_

This was my chance to get away! I followed the sound like a sailor under a siren's spell, scrambling towards it as if possessed. After a few steps into the wrong direction I at last found the small stream that ran in a zigzagging motion over the rocks. Small pebbles and larger rocks littered its surroundings, moss generously growing everywhere near the cold water.

_Thank you! Thank you! _I could have laughed in relief.

I rushed to the water with a glad heart and immediately stepped in. My boots were waterproof (or so the manufacturer claimed); it was time to test for how long the leather would hold the water at bay. The stitches would be the problem zone here, but wet feet are always a preferred alternative to being dead or injured. I hurried upstream, not minding the stones, just putting my feet onto the pebbled ground. Icy water streamed over my boots effortlessly, chilling my hot skin where it spread its low temperature through the material. My jeans were safe from the water because they were tucked into dark-grey woolen socks reaching almost mid-shin. But the water levels were not all that high anyway – it seemed the snow had melted some time ago, so there was no elevation of the water level, although evidence of a recent rise was visible.

I tried to rush, but I had to watch out to not make too much noise or splash evidence all over the place. I also had to slow down because of risk of injury. The stones were slippery and I was far from being sure-footed. It was a hard path where I followed various turns, ducked under branches and squeezed myself between boulders, looking out to not step into deeper water levels. The air around the water was considerably cooler too, making me shiver with time. It was the perfect route for hiding, but also a risky one – I did not know when the path could suddenly turn into a dead end. The sounds of my pursuers were gone, yet I pushed on. I intended to walk until nightfall if necessary. It was afternoon and the days were short still, so there was little time left.

How long was I running now? How long was I delayed at the scene of the crime? I did not know, but the events seemed to rush in one moment and move at a snail's pace in the next. It was maddening. Never before in my life had I been scared shitless and neck-deep in trouble. Logic told me to look for a hiding spot, that I could not go on like this. I need a plan.

I stumbled up the stream, catching a distant sound of human voices on the wind now and then, until I came to a place where the stream was cut into sections by smaller waterfalls. I had to climb if I wanted to move forward… it was the perfect place for hiding. The area was accessible only from the stream and closed off from the men's side by large rocks and slopes. The terrain was naturally moving up in a west direction. There was no chance they would find me here in the night.

_A deep breath and up you go…_I encouraged myself while searching for hold on the slippery rocks. A possible route was found relatively quickly, urgency and hope making me quite reckless. I doubt I would have taken the same path if I were to go there at another time in my life. I was lucky to make it up safely.

I had moved the bows to my backpack - _No loosing footing here now!_ It was hard work – searching for the best footing, the perfect hold while balancing a lot of weight and big clumsy objects. The climb demanded a lot of my precious time, but it was just another obstacle for my pursuers and therefore worth the effort. The water was icy, making my fingers turn blue and tingle all over once I managed the climb. My sleeves and a bit of my front got wet and muddy as I brushed against rocks and earth, but I did not mind that too much. That was to change in the night though, I knew – I would not be able to start a fire to warm up, and would have to sit in the cold in wet clothes. Not an experience I was looking forward to, but my entire stay here appeared to be one unwanted experience after another. I should have known those men would return eventually. I should have just left the area and never looked back. I only got myself into trouble and for what - compassion? _And what do you get in return for it? Being chased by a group of renegade medieval men, that is.__Why in the world have I behaved so foolishly?_

"Damn it April, when I get back you better be prepared for some serious groveling…" I muttered under my breath. I swore I'll never go on a trip with her ever again. It was not good for my health – physical or mental one.

With this thought I reached the top of the series of waterfalls, feeling none satisfaction at the feat. With a frown I crouched down by the rocks and turned my gaze around. Bare tree-tops were all I could see at first, but even as my gaze found the forest floor there was no sign of the men. That did not comfort me though. I distrusted the sudden silence; it could mean so many things... All of a sudden there was a glint, just a quick flash of reflected light somewhere in the lower part of the forest; too close to the stream. It could have been light reflected from water, I thought. However, it would have reappeared in the same spot and not further up the stream. No, this was no innocent reflection… it was something else.

"Swords," I muttered to myself, a chill passing down my spine. The men have not lost my track yet. I had to think up something, and fast.

I scrambled to my tired feet and rushed once again away from my enemies. _Won't this nightmare ever end?_ It was like they could scent me; anticipate my next move before I even thought about it. Were they some kind of men-hunters? I prayed that was not the case or I'd be a goner.

I half-jumped over one rock and followed the turn of the stream to the right. The trees that grew along boulders of various sizes shaded the water with their thick branches, giving me an illusion of being shielded from all sight. The merry sound of water flowing over rocks was shushed by my splashing steps. I did not care for stealth anymore; I was too tired for such concerns. I stumbled in the stream filled with little pebbles and larger rocks that seemed bent on tripping me into the freezing water. Was it wrong of me to follow the stream? Was I too slow because of the difficult terrain? I did not have answers to those questions, but doubt crept in my mind. I did not trust my previous decisions anymore. I was panicking.

The only thing keeping me from wildly running into the forest was the thick line of strong and thorny bushes along the stream that prevented any unnoticeable escape from the water. I could not risk giving them more pointers than I already did.

"Why do you hate them so?" I muttered with a choked voice, "Why do you hunt me like this? I've done nothing wrong!"

I felt their persistence almost resembled my desperation - it was as if their very lives depended on capturing me. As it was, I was nearer the truth than I imagined. The Rangers of Gondor swore to protect their land and people. The group of Dunlandings from Rohan they had killed was actually spying for Saruman, making anyone helping them a serious threat. Therefore it was no wonder they were after me like a pack of hungry wolves. I really hadn't done any favors to myself by showing respect to their enemies.

"Damn it all to hell!" I hissed when I almost slipped on a rock that gave way under my foot. My right hand found hold on a fallen trunk of a tree just in the nick of time. My legs could not take the strain anymore – the rough terrain was killing me. With eyes brimming with unshed tears of desperation I hit my fist against the trunk in anger. _Why? _

With an angry huff I wiped at my eyes, truly regretting my decision to escape by wading in cold water. It took too much of my strength. I contemplated ditching some of my load right then and already lowered my backpack when I saw a solution. It was such an easy one I could have smacked myself. The very tree I was leaning against was giving me a way out of the narrow stream without disturbing those thorny bushes blocking my escape. The thick trunk connected one side of the stream to the other one, leaning at a sharp angle on big boulders that had securely anchored it. If I could get on it without leaving wet prints, I could get out of here with no one knowing it.

"Oh thank God! Thank you!" I whispered with relief.

I quickly searched for a way I'd be able to climb up and found it on the other side of the trunk. The large rocks and several smaller boulders formed very haphazard stairs, but that was good enough for me. With some care I'd be able to get off my boots and keep my feet dry! Yes – I planned to climb the trunk in my socks to avoid leaving wet prints behind. Hopefully I would not leave behind wool fibers since the bark had long ago fallen down, leaving the trunk exposed to the elements.

I carefully deposited the bows at the rocks and reached out for the small zipped pocket where a couple of plastic bags for waste were kept. After some fumbling I got one – it was big enough to get both wet boots inside. _Perfect! Now for the tricky part..._ I had to get my boots off and not step into the icy cold water. Not an easy feat when you balance on one foot with all that weight on your shoulders! Carefully, I untied the strings and slid the boot halfway down, before stepping out and placing my sweaty foot onto the rocks. I quickly pulled the boot out of the water and placed it in the bag, then bent and untied the other. With difficulty I managed to hop a step closer to the rocks, intending to keep both of my feet dry while hoping the backpack wouldn't overbalance me. It was a tight spot and the available footing on that rock quite small but there really was no way for me to place the backpack. I doubted I would manage to squeeze through at all. Somehow I managed to get the other boot down too and place it in the bag. I pushed high up on my left shoulder, just next to the quiver with arrows. It would do, I told myself.

With my left hand holding onto the trunk, I reached with my right for the tied bows and started climbing. My feet (safely wrapped in two pairs of socks) were better suited for such tiny footholds than thick boots, so things progressed faster than I expected. I had to watch out for my backpack, but I managed to get around the boulders and find a way to squeeze myself through and set foot on the trunk. It was high time to remember gymnastics lessons from high school! I could not fall down now! With confidence that I did not feel I rushed over the old tree, knowing that prolonging the walk would only have resulted in loosing balance. When I passed the bushes, I could feel relief flood my body. I managed it!

I pulled off my backpack and carefully let it reach the ground then jumped off the high place with ease. The shock of the landing traveled through my legs, but my crouched position took the edge off. With a small smile I picked up my things and rushed to safety. I had to cover some ground without my boots and their distinctive soles. I only hoped they'd loose a lot of time before finding my trail once again…

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And this is it. Any questions or suggestions are welcome and I look forward to what you have to say.**

**Review, please ;)**


	4. To Gaze into the Eyes of Your Enemy

**A/N: Heavily edited. :D 18.01.2011**

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Chapter Three: To Gaze into the Eyes of Your Enemy**

**or: How important decisions are made**

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My steps were quick as I walked along thick bushes; the ground was soft from the thick layer of dried leaves and shrivelled grass. But the sight of these greys and muted colours did not help lift my spirits. I hated the period before first green buds showed.

But I did not really care about that at the time; my mind was focused on leaving as few deep prints in the ground as possible. Although there weren't that many rocks to slow me down, I did not cover ground as quickly as I imagined I would. There is a marked difference in walking barefoot and walking with good shoes.

I mentally cringed when I imagined how dirty and smelly these socks would be in just a few minutes; a sacrilege for them to be anywhere near my good hiking boots for sure.

Despite the trouble, I arrived at a long line of cliffs separating the forest into two levels a few minutes later. It was a familiar sight, welcome in the maze of trees. I was nowhere near the narrow path that had led me to the massacre, so the chance of running into one of the soldiers was very slim; or so I thought.

The day was getting darker and a new safe place imperative, so I pushed forward on the rocky path despite my lack of strength. My face must have been gray with fatigue despite the strain I put my body under which would usually produce a pinkish tinge on my cheeks. Sweat beaded on my brow, running down in small rivulets. The air already had a crisp quality that did not bode well when I could not light a fire in the night. And I was hungry too. So hungry… A dull throb behind my eyes spoke of a raging headache in the future, but I had to forget all that and push forward. I was not out of the woods yet – pun intended.

Being so close to the cliffs had several disadvantages – it was easier to be seen, cornered at some point, but most of all the path was littered with stones and pebbles. It was very uncomfortable for walking when I had only my socks for protection.

My eyes searched for a way up, for a chance to get deeper into the forest where the men would not find me so easily. It was no use though – the cliffs here were sharp and steep, with no obvious natural path or deer trail to be followed. _Damn it! Not now, I have to get up... Please!_

But there was nothing. Tiny stones that were not smoothed with water abrasion dug in my soles most painfully, forcing me to reconsider my decision to not pull on my boots. I would have to do it to avoid limping and loss of speed, I thought, but that would give them far too many clues to my whereabouts.

_Aren't you being unreasonable? You need to get away__, not gain an injury._ Yes, I was tired and aching; not a good combination for a fugitive.

_Just a bit further, not long now, just until I find a path to the upper level… _I pleaded.

I continued on pure strength of will for another ten minutes or so before I had to sit down and rest for a while. Rain clouds gathered slowly on the sky which meant that the night would come even sooner than before; a fact that would aid me in my escape, even when it was dangerous to walk the forests at night.

I sat there for a while, not very long for fear of discover, and leaned my head back onto the heavy backpack, trying to catch my breath. _How in the world will I find a way home now?_ I don't believe I expected to come up with a useful answer in any foreseeable future. I did not even dare contemplate the thought that I did not have one. But the fear was there – sharp and tangible.

I groaned, with a sigh placing my head between shaky hands. I wanted to curse the soldiers, shout out all my frustration, anger and fear, but all I dared to utter were a few broken cuss words. They appeared unnaturally harsh to my ears since the forest was bathed in silence that only an occasional bird-cry interrupted.

"Get your butt out of here…" I finally muttered and took a deep breath. I had to finish my escape, not wait for them to show up! There was no time for loss of direction, ideas or the will to survive.

I stood up and little stones dug into my soles, making me wince. The flash of brilliance that had told me to go barefoot seemed to be good up to now - so far there were very few footprints to be seen, but the additional weight on my shoulders made them deeper. A tiny voice told me the soldiers would have a much keener eye than me, but I had no new ideas to solve the problem. I could only hope I'd find a passage up soon.

I turned west again and followed the cliffs further up the mountains, deeper into the forest. I tried to be as far away from the spring as I could, in case the men had missed my little escape and followed it upwards. It would have defeated the purpose of my dash through the woods were I seen walking along it, wouldn't it?

My stomach made itself known with a loud growl that quite surprised me with its bad timing. I really had no time for food now! I only sighed (half in irritation and half in disbelief at the inappropriate sensation), and walked faster along the cliffs that still denied me a path towards freedom. Mists began to gather in the valleys and the sky darkened. It seemed to announce rain early in the next morning, if not sooner. I truly hoped not sooner – I'd freeze to death! Rain would erase my tracks, but with the cold temperatures it was almost a death sentence for a girl like me. I could not imagine walking during the night in a downpour, but knew such a scenario was quite possibly my only chance of escape. I did not wish to gamble with my life and presume I escaped the soldiers yet. But I was tired and aching… needing a long break now more than ever. It sounded so tempting, so absolutely divine to imagine a warm couch with a thick afghan and a cup of hot tea or cocoa… I'd give everything to experience that again.

My mind was soon filled with the rhythm of my breaths and the sounds of my gear moving with my body. The plastic bag with boots rustled with the steps, leaves crunched under my feet and the wind whistled in some crack up the mountain… I could almost imagine I was alone here were there not a deep instinct whispering that someone was still on my track. Or was it paranoia that filled me with dread of discovery? Whatever it was it brought me to an old slide site – the perfect route towards freedom.

The rough terrain was littered with rocks and boulders of all sizes and shapes, generously spattered with smaller bushes that began to colonize the area before the trees. Their roots held the thin layers of earth together, protecting it from a renewed earth-slide. These muddy slopes full of loose stones were my path. _Here we go…_

My gaze slid towards the woollen socks - _Will I be able to get up there like this? _I was sceptical. It was time to put on the boots again.

I peeled off the woollen socks with sure hands, shook off the crunched leaves and dirt, turned them inside out and put them back on. At least so the insides of my shoes would remain clean for a while longer. There was no time to search for a new pair. Therefore I mentally promised to scrub my boots real good at a later time. I tied the laces and tucked the loose ends behind the rim. The knot was extra strong in case I was forced to run again.

"Here I go…" I whispered encouragingly and set my foot onto the first rock that served as one of the many steps upwards. The path was difficult and littered with sharp-edged stones that dug deep into the soft skin of my hands when I used them for leverage. Moss and grass grew in the cracks, the few bushes only a nuisance when they caught on my backpack. Still, I managed to reach the top with only a few slipped steps on the way. My hands were looking a bit worse for the wear but I counted the whole experience as a personal success. However, despite the fantastic view on the lower forests and dramatic skies, I dared not linger in the open area for long. The few moments I needed for steadying my breath were enough a risk and I was moving forward once again; this time focused on finding a shelter for the night… Time was running short.

The air cooled even further, making me worry there was a chance of snow. The surroundings were not promising – there was no shelter as far as my eye could see, not that I dared stop yet. I was weakening further, my throat absolutely parched by now. I stumbled beside an old oak, almost falling straight on my face. The sudden dark spots dancing before my eyes alarmed me and I hastily searched for my water bottle.

"You got to drink, Meg…" I muttered as I turned off the cap. If I thought back I had to conclude I've not drunk enough liquids the entire day; which proved the point that I was not suited for such rough terrain at all – much less being a fugitive.

I took slow gulps, mentally trying to determine how much water I actually had with me. It seemed enough for another day maximum, but I needed to find another brook or stream soon. This realization made me chuckle self-deprecatory at another mistake I've made in the last hour – I've not taken any water from the stream. Not a single drop!

"Fuck, woman… your brain's finally given up on you…" I muttered with a sad chuckle.

I picked myself up and stowed away the water bottle. I wondered if I had any snacks left, so I could munch on them while I walked, but did not feel up to taking the backpack down again. I tied my bottle carefully - inside was the last of boiled water I've made when my conscience reminded me of April's advice. She stressed I be careful with water sources in the forests, especially those that stood in a place for a longer time, like puddles and smaller ponds. Boiling killed off viruses and other germs that could be found there. But these crystal clear mountain springs did not look very dangerous to me; I highly doubted they had many pollutants inside them, so I did not bother boiling their water most of the time. When you could see clear pebbles on the bottom and no mud, you could safely conclude the chances for catching diarrhoea were small.

_Sorry, my friend,__I will never be a good scout, despite your best efforts… Time is not a commodity I have – but I do promise to follow your advice some other time._

Wind swept up through the leafless crowns of the trees, pushing dark clouds even closer to my position. I shivered with the cold, trying to warm up my hands. I had caught my rhythm again, feeling calmer when nothing indicated soldiers were onto my path. However, the clearly rapid onset of the evening and worse weather conditions made it understood a shelter was in need; preferably before dark really caught up with me.

I was also in need of food; some sugar to get my metabolism back in gear and meat for long-term nourishment. I was burning some serious calories here. Since I had enough provisions I could really afford to get a good meal out of it. It would warm me up too, though a fire would be much nicer…

Lost in thoughts I happened upon a narrow canyon where a relatively fast stream flowed through noisily. The height of the canyon walls indicated a significant water level rise in early spring and during heavy downpours, but now it appeared harmless enough and not particularly deep. It sure had a different nature under unfortunate circumstances. However, even with deceptively shallow waters, the height of the walls was a barrier I couldn't cross. It was too wide and steep to attempt something as foolish as a jump or a climb therefore I was forced to move along it in search of a way across. There had to be a point where a path would present itself before night fell, I encouraged myself.

_Is this the same stream I waded in before?_ It did not appear like it, but I was quite surprised with the quantity of available water in this particular area. It seemed streams of varying sizes were everywhere. Odd that there were no lakes or ponds though...

The air continued to cool and very soon my breath came out in a tiny swirl of mist. Braving the night without a fire would be pure madness – the men knew it too, so I hoped they would not wander around in the pitch black night, giving me a chance to light a small fire. Luckily, I had enough firewood with me and only needed to collect a bit more of dry grass for the first sparks. I had to keep it small anyway, but its warmth would be enough to shield me from turning into a popsicle.

With each step I was further away from the cliffs and deeper in the woods of the mountain range. I was further away from the Druadan forest, which was where I had stepped into Middle Earth. I would have stumbled upon Beacon hills of Gondor were my starting point not that far up in the mountains, therefore I passed them safely and was now headed towards Rohan. But my path led me away from any civilization, away from guards and Beacons where soldiers regularly patrolled. It was exactly one of the groups defending Anórien that had caught sight of me and killed men spying for Saruman. It was not hard to hide in the mighty mountain range of the Ered Nimrais, or White Mountains as they were called. For this reason attacks could be planned and secret messages from Minas Tirith smuggled past watchful guards. It did not help much though once you were discovered. Rangers could be dispatched almost instantly – their success rates were phenomenal. I had no idea about any of this of course. I doubt it would have helped me any – I'd maybe be more freaked out as I was.

The muted rustling of leaves on the ground and the sound of rapid water helped me focus on something else than the sound of my breathing. Birds were strangely quiet, but it wasn't as if they were particularly prone to singing this early in spring anyway. Mists gathered slowly on the ground and with it the cold crept closer, became more pronounced. With every minute closer to the night, the forest got colder and scarier. My fingers soon tinged a light purple, pronouncing dark blue veins through the thin layer of skin. Heat gathered in my cheeks and recognized it as a reaction to the lack of food. I always got slightly warmer cheeks and really cold hands when I was starving – my body mystified me sometimes.

After another half an hour went by, a possible passage through the canyon came in sight. _Halleluiah! _I had had enough of searching!

The canyon's walls were significantly lower here, but still twice my height tall; I consoled myself that at least they weren't as steep as before. The stream was wider now, almost forming a pond, and had a lower water level too. The bottom was filled with pebbles and even a bit of rough grained sand that showed off the crystal clear colour of the cold water. It was not deep enough for the magnificent blues and greens of the Alps' streams, but my mind recalled them nonetheless. This stream curved around a solid rock that stood proudly over the canyon, moss and little bushes growing in the grooves.

"One last climb, Meg, then it's time to find that shelter for the night…" I told myself and arranged my load so it would not bother me while I'd cling to the slender trunks of few beech trees growing along the incline, forming natural steps. They certainly made the descent easier, but I still clung to them to avoid falling into the cold water. When I turned back a deep trail betrayed my stumbling steps. I could only sigh at that and focus on the future; there was no way I'd try masking those – night was coming fast.

Somehow I managed to get into the shallow pond, which was a feat in itself considering my tired legs, and discovered the water reached my ankles. My gaze was drawn to the dying light and the mists lifting from the cold water – the canyon was really beautiful. When I stepped forward fine silvery particles rose up from the disturbed ground, but the water cleared almost immediately. It seemed prudent to fill up those flasks with fresh water and take a few gulps at the same time. I knew it would not be enough to silence my grumbling stomach, but I dared not tempt fate with another dizzy spell for lack of hydration.

The water was ice cold so my fingers tingled when I straightened up and looked around – it appeared there was a bend in the wall of the canyon. I quickly stashed away the bottle and waddled towards this bend, curious. _Would it be easier to climb?_

I followed it as it turned in a sharp angle and gasped. There were more bends!

_A labyrinth!_

A wide grin spread over my face. This was just perfect. I'd have cackled in glee if I dared to, but my mind was awash with relief and happiness. It seemed that many smaller springs combined here, eating away the ground gradually through the years until these canyons appeared. How fortunate that they chose this area to merge together. Just to imagine how strong these currents would be once the snow-covered peaks started to melt filled me with awe. To carve so many canyons in bare rock… it was magnificent. But what was even more important; they provided me with countless hiding places, water and no visible prints left behind.

I slowly followed the first bend and continued my journey by following the strongest middle stream. It did not have as narrow walls as the other ones and really wished to get out of the water as soon as possible. It was icy after all and I did not wish to freeze. I followed it and true to my hopes the walls appeared more rounded, not as jagged, and were covered with moss and tufts of grass. Eventually they moved wider apart, allowing trees to grow on the slopes.

There were only two more bends after I found another pool at a dead end. It was not a problem, though. There was an easy trail back up here; well, as 'easy' as anything could be here. But a lot of young trees for hold did mean I would be up that slope quicker.

I grabbed the first trunk and heaved myself one step up. My thighs and calves protested the steep climb, not to speak of my shoulders, yet I gritted my teeth and made another step. My right leg started to sting in the knee area and I cursed under my breath. Ever since my ankle injury the entire leg gave me problems when taxed too much. Talk about feeling like an old person with bad knees at twenty-one… Fortunately though, the sting disappeared after two more steps and I had no problems until I was in a new part of the forest.

Dusk began to fall over the mountains and valleys as I got out of the canyon and managed to find a passage over the many streams. The dark clouds hanging low in the sky only made darkness fall down sooner. Luckily, I had found a nice sized depression behind an upturned tree by then, so I wasn't upset much. With few nearby logs, I had a reasonable cover over my head - dry leaves and twigs on the floor helping me to preserve heat. I counted on the men doing the same – there was no way they'd have risked freezing to death over one fugitive. I wouldn't… but that was not a foolproof conclusion.

As I arranged the last branch on the 'roof', I realised I had covered a lot of ground in one single day. I was surprised with the hidden strength I showed. My muscles ached and my shoulders were stiff, but I was proud of myself for getting this far. I had never been as proud of my body in my life. Not even when I got to the top of the mountain my father was dragging our group of relatives up. I was never particularly fond of heights and the paths there were steep and quite unprotected. I needed trees to feel safe. I felt almost as accomplished.

I sat down and massaged my calves for several minutes nonetheless. I would be sore in the morning and probably in no shape to cover a lot of ground, I reminded myself.

As night fell and I couldn't really see anything anymore, I dragged myself inside the shelter. It was narrow and very small, but warmed up quickly, which was the main reason for making it small and tight. The blanket from the men was covering the ground over the bunch of leaves I had arranged as a sort of bedding. Gosh, I would have given anything to have a sleeping bag…

I dragged my backpack to the opening and closed it up with it, then laid myself down (my knees held tightly towards my chest), and covered myself up with a jacket and my other blanket. I hoped it would be enough since I also put on some shirts like the previous night to be even warmer. I still bunched my scarf tighter around my neck and covered my chin. I always woke up if I was cold, but I did not worry too much since the blanket seemed to do its job and warmed up quickly. It seemed I would be able to sleep for a reasonable amount of time and not wake up with stiff muscles. Not soon afterward I thought that I was deeply asleep, fatigue and the events of the day forcing my mind to shut down even when I feared the men would come.

**OoOoO Alone OoOoO**

I awoke several hours later to a night bird's call. I was disoriented at first and did not really know for a few moments where I was. It was very dark and the air that crept into my shelter was cold, but I was otherwise relatively warm – the layers of clothing, the coat, jacket and blanket were keeping my body temperature steady. I had no idea why I was so cramped together though, until the smell of the forest ground and the rustling of leaves reminded me of where I was.

I reached out with my hand and touched the roof over my head, confirming what my mind had already told me. _I'm still in this strange land…_I sighed then wondered, _How long did I sleep?_

I was lost in the darkness, not even capable of discerning my hand, so I wondered what had woken me up. I turned around, wide awake despite my fatigue. Very soon I felt the chill of the ground settle in my bones and felt the cold air find a way inside the shelter through the cracks by the hard ground. I began to shiver despite the clothing – I needed a fire to warm myself up and food. I could not be completely motionless and remain warm anymore.

It was a miracle I had managed to get at least some semblance of sleep at all; my muscles hurt and protested. _You'll have to stretch your back and walk for a while to get the ache out_, I told myself.

Any attempt to find sleep was futile - once I registered the cold, there was no rest for me anymore. Goose bumps covered my skin and I had to burrow deeper under the covers. I did not particularly like the idea of moving out of the shelter even if the cold was slowly persuading me to stand up and get off the floor.

_Should I go forward or should I wait for the morning? I won't see a thing and I don't know how to make a torch… I__don't think I can stay for long and moving would probably warm me up, but…_

My mind returned to the events of the previous day. The horror was only dimly remembered; shock still pushing the memories aside. But the recollection of the flight was sharp - the ache of my body its testimony and also a warning of my limits. It would be impossible to run a second day so I had to be careful with my strength. I was already taxed emotionally by the sudden abandonment and strange events - physical trauma was not something I could afford at any time. Aching legs were a dull warning of the fact.

If only I could have slept somewhere warmer or at least had the comfort to know people of this land were on my side, but it was not so. I was truly on my own, my strength and wit the only things keeping me alive. Was it worth the effort? Wouldn't it have been easier to capitulate and try my luck with the men, hoping they would spare a woman?

_No_! – I quashed the thought ruthlessly. My stubbornness came forth and demanded I fight and succeed. _I will show them what it meant to be strong! I will get away and then find a way back home. There must be a way to get back!_

The next minutes in the dark were spent making up a mental list and sorting my priorities. I was horrified to remember how I have neglected to eat once I had stopped for the night, but it seemed the gallons of water I drank had my stomach in control then and my mind was too tired to care – now first twinges of hunger were demanding sustenance. Thus eating was first on my list, second was keeping a low profile with the natives as much as possible. Then there was a barrage of thoughts that I had no desire or strength to sort through. I yawned and hid under the cover for the next hours of the night. I drowsed until I had the feeling it was time to get up and continue my journey. It was always uncanny how some sort of inner clock told me I had to get up.

_But__I'm warm! I don't want to get up and freeze to death!_

Yet I had to since no excuse would save me from the painful reality - I was still a fugitive.

_This sucks…_ I pouted, irritated. It was fortunate I was alone because if there were anyone else they would have received the full brunt of my frustration, anger and bad grace at the situation. I was irritable and the aching and protesting body only mounted the feeling of frustration. As I lifted the blanket and crawled out of the shelter, the cold hit me with a painful intensity that had me cursing and gasping in shock.

_Bloody shit! Fuck! It's cold!_

My teeth wanted to chatter, but I forced my jaw firmly shut and rubbed my arms to warm them up. "Bloody perfect," I managed to get out after the barrage of curses. I was jumping on the spot to get my circulation going before I once again covered myself with the blanket tightly. Then I crouched and went through my backpack as quickly as possible.

The sky was lighting slightly, I observed in a corner of my eye, but it was still dark. I relied on my sense of touch to find the rest of the food. I had energy bars, two apples and a bit of left-over toast. The bag containing them was placed beside me in my arm's reach while I arranged things inside my backpack to get some extra space. I managed to get enough to fit in the blanket and jacket, both things that really bothered me dangling on the outer side of my pack. I had a feeling I'd loose them any time. The next to go was the quiver of arrows – it had to be tied onto my pack, so my hands would be free once more.

Getting everything done in the dark was quite irritating business, but my eyes seemed to adjust just fine eventually. I had always disliked not being able to see properly in the night – being lost in the dark gave me the chills. I managed to get things done to my satisfaction though and this made me feel much better already. I would only hold the bows in my hands, all else would get on my back.

Once done, I crawled back inside my shelter where it was warmer and huddled on the blanket. I slowly ate my breakfast and drank a lot of water in an attempt to make up for the bad treatment of my body in the previous days. That was some dangerous stunt I had pulled, I knew that – the dizziness was no walk in the park, but a serious warning. My muscles protested when I crossed my legs and I felt like someone had tried to beat me to death with the way my body behaved.

When the sky seemed to get a little colour, I strapped my load back onto my shoulders and continued in the direction I went in the previous day. Enough light hit the forest ground to show me the way through the silent wood, but a lot was till shrouded in darkness. My legs continued their protests quite firmly and the cold morning air did nothing to ease their stiffness, so my steps were slower than usual, which was probably for the best anyway. It was only after half an hour later that my body seemed to get the message that there would be no more rest, and warmed up, thus ending the vehement rebellion.

The mists covering the ground gave the forest a strange dreamy atmosphere - made it look quite otherworldly. The dark and slightly damp barks were like pillars of a collapsed cathedral or some other building, the branches and bushes fences and walls, but the upturned trees lying on the ground were fallen sentries. My imagination ran wild at the sight and my artistic side demanded I capture the moment for all eternity. I tried to remember as much as possible, but knew only a fragment of this strange beauty would be forever ingrained in my memory. The fact that I could still see the beauty in this place bolstered me.

The dawn soon painted the forest in a different light, ending the illusion. However, the day did not turn bright at all and soon settled into a mix of greys, making the atmosphere dull and lifeless. The clouds of the previous day clung mulishly to the sky, threatening with rain. I despised them. _Shouldn't the weather be warmer when it's cloudy? _I wondered.

I moved forward only slowly, listening to the sounds of the nature, always on the alert for footfalls. My hair hung around my face since I left it unbound in an attempt to ward off the chill. I also had no desire to bother with it in the dark; my arms protested when I tried to lift them over my head anyway, so why torture yourself? Admittedly, it wasn't looking pretty after the mad dash through the forest and sleeping on the ground, but that would have been easily said for my entire body. I stank of stale sweat and dirty clothing. I hadn't really changed it for three days now. It was simply too cold to be doing something like that and I had no desire to get flu or even something worse like pneumonia. I knew I ate too little and was burning the reserves for the most of the day, but I was aware hunger would be much harder on me if I had nothing to put in my mouth. It was better to eat small amounts than nothing at all.

I gritted my teeth as I pushed myself up another slope. I huffed and moaned when my muscles protested. I was forced to make many stops to get up that damned hill and I cursed every rock that had forced me to lift my leg higher than abused muscles allowed. The happy chirps of some birds tested my patience and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from leashing out on the unsuspecting wildlife. I was miserable, but still wise enough to keep quiet in case the men were in the forest. But not even fear could get me move faster. I was at my breaking point. About two hours after my start I was sitting on a log, trying to not wolf down the food I had packed for the day into a bag tied conveniently in my hand's reach. I reached for my almost empty flask of water instead. _Save the food..._ rang through my head.

When I looked up I saw a new series of cliffs and canyons before me. How in the world I'd get over them I had no idea and the sight only made my spirits plummet further. "At least most of them are dry…" I tried to get my hopes up in vain, "You'll get over and then the men won't find you."

I did not believe the words myself.

With a painful and defeated sigh I went on, not looking forward to the dangerous descent into the canyons I was about to make. The day seemed to be cursed to give me as much trouble as possible and I felt a headache coming on gradually, it's centre near my left temple. The leaves covering the ground rustled but I paid them no attention, only looking straight ahead. In the end I had to move upwards along the canyons for another half an hour before a suitable spot for climbing down them was found. And then I had to meander from one spot to the next before I was able to get out. I detested this part of the mountains. I had walked and walked but covered very little ground considering the air line. At least the double amount of time I had though it would take was necessary to get to the other side. If there had been a bridge or anything similar I'd have gotten over quicker.

So, I was climbing the eight or ninth canyon wall when it began to drizzle. Luckily I always chose lower and gentle slopes to get to the other side or I'd have been stuck when my hold got slippery. It rained for real soon afterwards and I was wet in no time at all. My backpack was waterproof, but I knew my jeans would get soaked through. And then my hair seemed to act like a sponge – it soaked up the drops like a man dying of thirst. I believe I resembled a drowned rat in fifteen minutes, it was raining so hard. There was no time to search for shelter, but at least the cold seemed to ease off a bit. But that was a double-edged blade – I was loosing body heat faster while wet than dry.

I stopped at a point where several of the canyons moved close together, their walls steep and bare. There had been nothing to hide from the rain, so I had to move from the canyons to the trees growing on both sides of them. There were several bushes and smaller trees growing on the uneven tops, but the wind threw water drops against my face like a slap when I passed them. The highest point of the canyon wall I was stood at when I searched for a path in the impossible weather was almost level with the ground where the irregular forms of the earth began. I could see the forest whence I came in a straight line from the two small and garbled bushes where I had stopped. Details of the landscape disappeared in the downpour as the rain formed a curtain to protect it from sight, but the empty crowns of trees appeared to be fingers grasping for the grey clouds above in a prayer-like gestures. I could hear the two streams that I had crossed rise and fill with more water. I was lucky – perhaps an hour later they'd have been an unbeatable barrier if not a death-trap.

Rain turned my hair into the deepest black colour and plastered the strands to my backpack in snake-like forms, chilling my cheeks and turning them pink form the cold. I was shivering and feeling like the most miserable person in the world.

No wonder I almost slipped on a rock in this flood, but had luckily caught my balance in time. It was then, as I managed to adjust my backpack's straps some more to keep as much rain away from my back as possible, that I saw one dark figure standing beside the trees on the other side, looking straight at me.

I froze in my motions with a sudden jolt.

Perhaps it was only five or eight meters of space separating us… if that much at all. The tall man must have moved from behind the tree he stood at for I had not seen him before. He was in plain view now, staring at my drenched form just as I was staring at him.

My heart started to beat a tattoo against my ribcage in fright. I could feel his gaze on my face, on my figure. It was as if he only now realised it was a woman he had started chasing yesterday. It was not a surprise really; they did see only my back and perhaps thought me a teenager with my small height. Yet now there was no mistake possible – I had the curves of a woman, even when my chest size was on the small side of the scale.

I slowly lowered my hands, my left cradling the bows as my right fisted in fear. Somehow I knew that any sudden movements would not be received kindly. But I was also too afraid to do something, anything. In fact, my mind had decided to shut down for a few moments before thoughts ran through it once again. My widened eyes zoomed on his face, trying to read him, trying to judge what his next action would be. It was a standoff and the sky continued to unload all the waters of the earth upon us in an attempt to make us both look our worst.

I could feel his eyes take in my small drenched and shivering form, pause on a face with full lips, gently slanting woman's eyebrows and long lashes that barely managed to keep the rain out of her eyes. I knew I was a fright with dirty streaks across the fabric of my coat and jeans, with hair plastered to my skull and form dwarfed by the backpack, but nonetheless I was still the same person who had managed to evade them – him - for a long time.

I breathed shallowly, ready to bolt and knowing there was really no way to dash off to - too dangerous in the downpour; no visible path showing me the way over the next canyon which was the way toward freedom. If I'd have felt a bit bolder, sure of my escape and continued survival, I would have called over something to him - perhaps show him the finger to relay my feelings on the subject of being degraded to the category of prey. That was what I was then because the way they had slaughtered those men had showed they held no respect for lives, for humanity. Perhaps I was overreacting because I really did not know the entire story behind the conflict. So, I did the only reasonable thing and did nothing of the sort.

We stared perhaps for a minute at each other. I was perfectly still - and I could stand so for another five minutes before the cold would force me to move. I kept moving my toes inside my boots though – it was how I controlled my nerves in school when fidgeting was frowned upon. I blinked at him through the raindrops that kept splattering against my skin. There was something keeping me rooted to the spot even when my mind told me to turn around and go. It was something in his posture, in his general aura. I did not feel threatened anymore for some strange reason. And he seemed to know that too – slowly he moved his head in a small nod that I hesitantly copied with a wide-eyed expression.

It seemed he was letting me go or giving me a head start. I was not entirely sure what was going on. Then he suddenly turned his head as if listening to a sound before turning back and motioning to me to go away. My face lost some of the frightened expression and I nodded – no more than a jerk of a head. There were no words necessary; I knew I was given a chance to save my life. This man seemed to understand I was no threat to them and thus had let me go; a decision that could have backfired spectacularly if I were not who I was – a stranger to the land.

I turned around and disappeared among the trees in the grove that led me towards the next slope I had to brave. I did not need to turn around to know he was watching my back disappear before he moved from his spot. Nevertheless, I knew that I could not count on the help of these people should I encounter them a second time. This was my only chance and I could not throw it away. I had to survive on my own without their help. I had to move far away before I would be able to puzzle out what had happened, was happening and would happen. My life was suddenly full off puzzles I had no idea how to solve. There were things I did not understand, a conflict playing out and which sides I did not know. My logic told me to avoid all contact as long as possible before I could gather more information. Those men had killed before asking questions and it seemed they did not agree on several points themselves. This was clear from the behaviour of the soldier that let me go. He had decided to hide my presence from his comrades and I knew the rain would wash away my footprints. There would be no hunt for me anymore.

What had me extremely scared was how quickly they seemed to find me. No matter what I did they were hot on my heels. Chills went up my spine when I imagined a different scenario. I could have been dead – he had a bow and could have easily shot me when I did not see him. Perhaps being a woman was the only thing that had kept me alive.

I swallowed thickly and reached out for another young tree to get a hold; I was almost there. It was time to get to a dry place for the time being – but far enough so that smoke won't be noticeable. I hoped this was my last encounter with such dangerous men, but knew deep down there were a lot of things waiting for me to face.

I reached inside my pocket and looked at the bone pendant – what did it bring me into?

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A/N: I'm really glad for all the kind reviews. Thank you, you make my day :D**


	5. Just an Ordinary Day

**A/N:****Thank you to all who reviewed the story and/or made it your favourite. :) I am happy you like it so far and hope I'll keep you interested. Reviews do make me write faster and spark my imagination!**

**Edited: 30.4.2011**

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**Chapter Four: Just an Ordinary Day in Anórien**

**or: What happens on lonely paths?**

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It was after a quarter of an hour that I finally found a somewhat dry location under another cliff. It seemed my life was irrevocably connected to rocks from the moment I had set foot into this strange land. And I hated it... very much so. I was wet and cold and had a nice ongoing headache, not to mention the growls in the general location of my stomach, but it might have been also other organs crying out for sustenance which made the noise. Who knew?

I collapsed on the hard ground, leaving a large wet patch on the dry rock, but I did not care particularly where my butt had landed as long as it was out of the rain. I untied the pack with the firewood that was now (hopefully) semi-dry and bound to resist catching fire – another obstacle I did not need at the time. With shaking hands I arranged the kindling and several rocks into a fireplace and tried my luck with making a fire.

As I sat there tears threatened to shatter my resolve to behave like a grown up, but the relief I felt after he had let me go had to find an outlet. I managed to repress the water-works by keeping busy, but knew my psychological state was not rosy or terrific either. I was bound to break sooner or later – I had managed to keep my cool in the dangerous situation quite well, I supposed. But eventually I would break; I could take only so much before something had to give.

It once again took me several tries to get the smaller branches burning and my patience was tested as I had to wait before adding larger logs to the pile. The cold did nothing for my temper and I was hard-pressed to prevent myself from flipping out. But then it finally seemed my efforts would pay out. Red flames licked with satisfaction at the dark wood, steadily giving off more much desired warmth. I placed wet logs near the fire to dry since there was no other kindling available and I had no desire to go gallivanting around the forest for other wet logs anyway. When the fire burned and cracked merrily, a huge amount of my bad mood and stress disappeared like mists under the sun.

I crumpled together into a wet and shivering ball of gratitude, and the tears started to flow freely. I tried to stifle my mad sobs of past terror and relief and tried to get myself under control, but sounded like I had gone crazy anyway.

_Oh, thank you! THANK YOU… thank you for letting me go; letting me live one more day, _ran through my mind as wet tears rolled down my cheeks and sobs filled the shelter.

A few minutes later, after I had released what I had bottled up inside, I felt strangely empty and calm. I reached up and dried my tears with damp sleeves, reaching out towards the fire. As I warmed my purplish fingers at the flames, I remembered I had to change my clothes and dry them if I wanted to avoid catching a cold. The inner layers were dry enough since I had so many on me, but I had to peel off the drenched coat and jeans. I stretched the coat out on the ground near the fire that began to smoke heavily when flames reached the wet ends of the branches. Next to go were my boots, and socks that I changed with fresh ones from the pack. My feet luckily did not develop any blisters (and I was very much satisfied it was so, since I had paid a nice sum for boots that _would not_ bruise me), but several areas were a bit tender and tinged red – an obvious sign of my long trek and all the running I did the previous day. I was really lucky.

The jeans joined the wet coat and I welcomed the warmth of my beige pair of pants. I was most glad to get rid of the dirty underwear. I was _definitely_ not a fan of wearing one pair of knickers for more than a day, I must stress, and welcomed the change of clothes enthusiastically. It felt like I'd become a new woman. Though I've made myself really cold stripping down like that, I have to admit.

I sat down on a dry pullover I laid over the ground and warmed myself under a blanket I tucked around my shoulders. My hair was bound inside a small towel, so to not wet my remaining dry clothes and to ward off the chill spreading from the wet strands. Soon I was warmed up again, the dry clothing really making a difference even though I missed my coat. It was as I was reaching for my water bottle that I was jolted upwards at the thought of collecting drinking water – the rain!

I took all the plastic bags I had with me and placed them among the rocks to collect the raindrops. This was the safest source of drinking water, I remembered. And I had almost forgotten about it!

I sighed at the muddled state of my mind, but stayed near the fire, while nursing my drink and looked out at the path I had taken. It poured down relentlessly and I listened to the steady trickle of water over the rocks. I contemplated my plans for the future, emotions rolling inside me in cyclic waves that almost matched the ebbing and rising patterns of the downpour. I was still reeling from shock then - I had not truly analyzed or gotten through the events of the previous day; or admitted how deeply the murders have affected me, how deeply they had cut.

I felt very cold inside, lonely and vulnerable.

I was further from the place where I had stumbled into this land than before. It seemed my decision to go to the valleys hadn't been really as smart as I had thought. I should have stayed where I was. But I was wary of turning back now. There was nothing to be found there, I reminded myself, and I _had_ searched for a way back and never found it. Still, a part of me insisted it was better to return than go further into this dangerous land. But whatever conflict was raging in the land seemed to come from the east – I could hardly turn back and fall into their hands! Those men would kill me, if not worse! The western part of the mountains should be fine though, I reasoned.

_And you really need to find out what is going on. How to return back…_

What I did not know was that the group of soldiers following me was only one of the many stationed at the base of the mountain range and at the Beacon hills of Gondor; I could hardly _not_ bump against them. This was why the man had let me go. That and the fact they had spotted several of the Wild-men in this particular area a while ago, and _those_ did not take kindly to any strangers – no matter their skin tone or allegiance. Their arrows were poisoned and the recovery long and painful; if you even managed to survive, that is. Danger came from the occasional orc groups too, but those had not yet arrived this early in the year. They would become a problem to me and other life later on in the spring, though.

If one regards all this, the hunt for me was not strictly necessary. The ranger knew he could hardly catch me when the water was rising in the canyons and had thus decided to pick his fight with me some other time. I was right though, about owing my life to the fact I was a woman. Were I a man, I'd have been shot with no feeling of remorse on his part. He supposed I knew another group of Dunlandings was near and was headed there. What else would a woman do?

The rangers knew the lower parts of these mountains fairly well – the entire range was a labyrinth of deep chasms, cliffs and dangerous paths further up with no passages across them. It was a natural barrier that protected a large part of Gondor from its enemies. There were not many paths or roads, and those that were made in the earlier ages were all forgotten with the passage of time. Not many people ventured high up, but lived close in the plains and restricted their movement to the hills at the foot of the mighty mountains. It was the best possible solution since bands of orcs attacking the land easily destroyed smaller or remote dwellings. Therefore I was doomed to make many long turns before getting anywhere in the forests, and this rainy day was one of the first I'd spend walking for hours before getting to the other side. The ranger knew I'd stumble upon his comrades soon enough. A soldier on one of those horses I had seen was already riding toward the next post, forwarding a message about a female fugitive.

But I did not know anything about that and thus did not make right plans or take other measures to escape them, however suspicious his decision seemed to me. Perhaps I was just glad to se they were not complete monsters… But the shocking experience did make me weary of all further contact. I was determined to move forward after the rain would cease – further into the woods and towards the west. I knew my best shot at long-term survival was in staying at a reasonably high location on the mountains, were the forest was mostly mixed or filled with foliage plants - not very far up because then my chances would drop quite drastically. However, I had to be far away from the general routes of the people, but at the same time not too far away, were something to happen that would demand I change my mind. And I still had to gather information – without it I could stay holed up somewhere until I was old and grey… and where would that leave me?

_Forget about information, you have bigger problems – shelter and food. What you have won't last that long, _I harshly reminded myself._ There won't be supermarkets round the corner, restaurants and cafes. You'll have to get everything with your own hands…_

This was what I feared the most. I was no hunter and no gatherer. I was fairly good at gardening since my mother inherited her green thumb from my grandmother and they both were very enthusiastic about teaching me how to cultivate all kinds of vegetables. The plants in my room always withered though, even if the bushes and flowers I had planted prospered outside. Well, I never did remember to water them until it was almost too late.

_What about hunting?_ I asked myself.

God, I had never killed a living being that had less than six feet. What was I going to do? There were no vegetables in this season yet and I could hardly maintain a healthy vegetarian diet since I did not know that much about it and had even less resources. _Fishing is it then for as long as I have to gather my courage to kill a breathing thing. _I shuddered at the thought, but knew my stomach would very soon change my idea about what I could and could not do. I had bows but they were hardly any help with hunting rabbits or something of similar size – too big and clumsy. Did I really know how to build traps? No, but I believed I got the general idea.

_Optimistic much? _I grumbled in my mind. It was not as easy as I had just imagined it – I knew that very well, but somehow could not dampen my spirits too much. I was dry and warm for the first time in days.

_From now on everything you do is improvisation and work, work, work… Mistakes teach, even if they are a pain in the…_ I sighed once again, cutting that particular train of thought, and reached for one plastic bag to deposit the water inside a bottle. I had the first amount of drinking water collected with my own hands and logic. _Good, only twenty more to go…_ I thought as I buried myself deeper under the blanket.

There was enough game in this forest to feed an army, I speculated - it was more a question of my skill whether I would survive, rather than lack of food. I imagined living in the wild couldn't be a piece of cake. I would have to use everything I got to its full potential, but I had hardly been brought up on the land. So much knowledge got lost in the typical city childhood and in the few decades separating me from my grandparents. They knew so much more about nature! All I had was vague ideas, few movie scenes (which were hardly a reliable source of information) and sketchy memories of April's lectures.

As I watched the downpour and looked back at the few days, I could already conclude I did not belong to the strong ones who would prosper under such harsh conditions for a longer period of time. A boy next door would probably have a greater chance to survive surrounded by the cruel and whimsy nature than I. I've made so many mistakes, taken so many risks – it did not bode well for the future even if I had managed to escape (but barely).

No one had ever described me as very strong or sporty type of a person, more of a scholar and artist. Imagination and ingenuity were my weapons now, but my spirit was still fragile. I was sensitive, but had hardened through the years a bit. How many tears had I cried, how many times had I been crushed by hard words? All this did not matter, what counted was how thick-skinned I could become, how weathered and beaten, and how strong I could grow to be. I had a backbone and my social and humanitarian beliefs that I shared with the local groups fighting for all kinds of rights helped with my confidence, so I was not that weak. But would I be ok without the comfort of human contact, nearness and emotional support? I had never faced such odds before and it was right I questioned my abilities for I knew very little about living in the wild; although my logic and instinct seemed to steer me in the right direction several times.

These were only some of the questions that plagued me. There was no place for delusions - I had to look the truth into the eyes and decide my future.

So I sat at the fire and thought, my mind running in circles.

The previous days and the escape could have very well been all luck and no skill; but I was selling myself short with the thought. I was a very tough and inventive person inside, but never had the chance to prove it, never really needed to bring out and nurture this side of me. My social projects were only one fraction of the strength I could use, but what I knew of societies and conflicts would come to help me survive only later on. Right now, in the first few weeks, I had to rely on different skills and not being overconfident was a good thing. It would save me from making mistakes and taking risks I could have easily avoided.

For a long time I warmed myself beside the fire that steadily burned, pushing the branches forward as their ends turned into ash. My gaze landed on the landscape hidden behind the veil of rain. There was no way I'd look at the mountains and not be awed and humbled by their strength, their might. The snow covered jagged peaks reaching up to the sky, the vast expanse of the woods, the rushing streams… it was beautiful and awe-inspiring. The grey shades could not hide the fact it was a very picturesque forest I had chosen for my path. It probably looked amazing dressed in bright colours of fall, or the fresh green of spring. No doubt many of the nearby bushes gave fruits to the animals, and scattered meadows were filled with herbs and eatable roots during summer. I would have to find them, experiment and learn. I had a chance to prosper with time, I believed with all my heart, even when a shadow of doubt lingered on in a dark corner of my mind.

The chill reaching me already promised no mercy and I knew that to crush me would be easy - either by sickness, injury or my own folly. A healthy dose of respect never hurt anyone and I had a large amount of it since the past two days.

With tired motions of my hands I dried my hair. The strands clung together in wild waves that would dry only after a couple of hours – too long for me to be comfortable with. This was the reason I did not let my hair lie down, but bound it up so that only a small portion of the cold could reach my skin through the layers of fabric I had bundled it into.

For the next half an hour I collected the rain-water until both my bottles were full. I wiped the bags with the drying pair of jeans and packed them back inside the pocket. I knew I'd stay here until the rain would ease off; however, it did not look like it was going to happen soon, which kind of irritated me. But what did not make my mood sour on this particular day? I was on a rollercoaster of emotions. Fatigue and nervousness really brought out the worst in me.

I relaxed only after some time and soon fell asleep curled up on the ground beside the fire. The warmth after the night spent in the cold was comforting and the crackle reminded me of better times spent with my friends. I needed sleep badly and could hardly move around in the weather.

It was no wonder I was deeply in the land of dreams for over two hours before the lack of warmth and the remembered screams of the dead woke me up – my fire had almost gone out. The rain had eased off somewhat but the clouds were still the same colour as before thus signaling the bad weather would go on for several hours more. I arranged the rest of the kindling I had and banked up the fire to my best ability. One part of my load was now gone but I did not welcome the lightening of my pack. Wet branches would be a hell of a work to get burning. I cursed, and felt another headache coming on at the thought of using them once my dry load would be gone. _Perfect…_I thought sarcastically, not nearly rested enough.

I sat with my legs crossed for a while, staring deep in thought into the flames before I poked it so a cloud of sparks flew up in a golden glitter. It was time to get moving, towards whatever lay ahead.

I collected the somewhat dried jeans which were still sporting large patches of mud and began to scrape it off. I needed something to do with my hands. After I was done, but not satisfied with the result, I decided to add new items I got from the deceased men to my list and ration my food for the next days. Eating something wasn't amiss. So, I took a page from my sketchbook and the collection of pens and started counting and dividing things. I also made a calendar of sorts and wrote down the most important events that had happened. I couldn't believe this was my third day in this strange land already!

_Three days, it is already three days… why does the time flow away so quickly?_

**OoOoO Alone OoOoO**

It was the next day that I ran into serious trouble on my way. There was no path that would get me across the steep slopes without serious risk involved. The rocks were jagged and unforgiving, even more dangerous after the heavy rain. I had no business walking there - the tall trees that somehow found hold in the cracks only made the steepness of the slope stand out more. I had to turn around and try another route higher up in the mountains since a narrow path led in that direction. I knew I was taking a chance wandering that high up where the weather was colder and even more unforgiving than in the lower parts, but did not wish to go nearer the valleys and meadows where those men came from.

The forest was wet and glistening from drying raindrops, but the weather turned warmer and only scattered clouds chased itself across the sky. It seemed rain would come again in a few days and I hoped to cover as much ground as possible by then.

My pack was burdened with all kinds of kindling, branches and other things I thought I'd need and had therefore collected on the way. I think I had been bending down for over an hour until my bag was full with wet branches. It was kind of foolish of me to take on more to bear, and not to rush my walking as far away from the men as possible, but I took my time and did not strain my already aching feet too much. I had to learn patience and moderation, since I was always driven to achieve things as fast as possible.

I suspected early on that the new path I took would end in a dead end like previous ones did, but stuck to it regardless of that. Where was I to go anyway? It was perhaps an hour or so when I stumbled upon a very distinctive deer trail running in a straight line across the slope I was dragging myself up. It went from west towards east so I decided to follow it – the animals knew what they were doing and surely chose a way that was not too difficult to follow. I could always go my own way if it wouldn't suit me anymore, I thought.

And I was right – after some time passed the path suddenly turned sharply towards the snow-capped peaks. I followed it, too tired to brave the steep incline further on, and came across a clearing. Trampled grass and wild bushes that would have made a perfect cover in the winter grew there, so thick and broad they wouldn't have bend too much under heavy snow. A few trees were adorned with ivy that crept up them from patches covering the ground and gentle slopes of the forest. Their leaves were the only green colour I saw beside some type of bush that had his seeds covered in white tufts that appeared like big cotton balls from the distance. The wind scattered them once I pulled several out of a small cluster. There was no obvious path to be seen that would lead me from the place though. I rolled my eyes and sighed in disappointment. _Great, just what I need…_

The discovery of this clearing was of absolutely no use to me and I was angry at myself for following the animals for over two hours. I did wander around the clearing for some time, searching for another deer path, but in the end realized I would have to stumble through the forest again. The thought dampened my mood, so I decided upon a short rest and, since it was almost time for lunch, ate the meal I had prepared, perched on a fallen log. The cheese from the men was good, if a bit on the dry side. I used only a very small amount, keeping it for harder times since it would keep well in the cold climate. I had a couple of baked potatoes safely kept in one of the food boxes beside a small amount of the dried meat I had softened in boiling water. I mashed the cold potatoes in the broth and ate it up. It wasn't warm now and had formed clumps, but it was filling enough. It was the last remains of my hot breakfast – a tactic that would turn out to be a constant companion on my journey. I prepared my meals for the day beside the banked up fire that had warmed me through the night. With few swallows of rain-water to get rid of the taste, I was ready to get on my way once again, although not with much enthusiasm.

I turned towards west again and somehow got over the obstacles in my path. I would rather not explain how I had meandered among trees, rocks and muddy slopes for the entire journey was really a miserable one. If I at least had had some guide or knew the way, the experience would not have been as bad. But when you are depending on memory to find your way back after one hour of going in the wrong direction, then there is no surprise you would be tense, angry and uncomfortable. I did forget most of the paths and bends I took and relied heavily on the prints left along the way. Few distinctive trees or rocks had captured my attention and I recognized them afterwards, but the surroundings kind of blurred together after some time, especially with the mounting worry and fatigue.

The forest was not yet covered in greens, so only different shades of brown and silver were my constant companions. The bushes did show few promising signs of fresh greenery and I estimated that spring would come in the next weeks, possibly in a rapid explosion of fresh buds and catkins. I rejoiced at the idea for a time before I almost slipped on a rock. _Damn me and my clumsiness._

It was not long before I was searching for a shelter for the night – the days were quite short still and the chill was incentive enough to stop. I was tired – the hours of walking through the difficult terrain took their toll, but I was also not yet used to getting up at dawn. I do not know how much ground I had covered but it was not all in the desired direction, that was clear enough. I was lost in a maze where most of the paths I painfully searched for led nowhere. It was a steep slope, a stone wall or some other thing that prevented me from going further. I never realized how grateful I should have been for the marked paths and crossroads posts in the Alps.

_It's like there are no people crossing these mountains, for God's sake! There should be occasional early shepherds, lumberjacks and other people populating these lonely peaks. Where are they; still in the valleys? Surely not all of them..._

But the Ered Nimrais have always been a barrier and I would very soon realize my journey would take far longer than initially thought. I found a nice depression along a fallen tree and with collected branches had a nice sized covering over my head. The shelter was again small and narrow, but would help me preserve heat. The two blankets I had were a comfort too, but nothing beats a roof over your head and a real bed.

I was feeling anxious about the future once again and the tight feeling in my chest was ever present when night approached. I worried about me, about my friends and most of all about my family and their reaction to my disappearance.

I huddled at the shelter and started a fire, a chore I had much improved in with all the practice. After preparing a warm dinner that both comforted me and warded off the chill, I took the few papers I tore out of the sketchbook and made a sort of journal by folding the pages in two and binding them together with a piece of thread I had with me. This became my journey journal – the description of the places I found and the routes I took (as far as I remembered them). But the barely used sketchbook became a place where my thoughts were recorded in, so that my mind was not burdened with them too much. I was always a person who wrote a lot, researched and collected all kinds of stuff. My computer disk was often full with photo albums, sketches and lyrics that had to be burned on a CD to make space for new ones.

So I sat at the fire as the night crept in and wrote down in cramped writing what had happened. My writing was so bad I had to look closely to see what I had written. But perhaps it was just the bad light and my fatigued hands which made me write in such small letters.

I turned a page and started a log of the latest day.

_Day 4(!)_

_It is cold again, but not enough to bother me. I still wish it were warmer and I had a roof over my head at night. The weather seems to be fine after that bit of rain, but I believe more is to come in the next days, which is not something I am looking forward to. The ground sure is hard on my bones - I'll get a bruise or two for sleeping on it, but it beats sleeping on rocks. The temperatures don't seem to do me much harm, but with the way my body aches, I doubt I'd notice it.__I guess I'm young and sturdy enough. But I worry if this goes on for much longer._

_The rations I decided upon seem to be reasonable and I do not suffer much from hunger; the amount of activity does demand more food__and my stomach constantly reminds me of it. But I won't die of a few lost pounds… I worry more that I have no idea what is even eatable here – can't live off bark and grass, can I?_

_Those soldiers trouble me - I fear meeting them__again, and I can't forget what they did... (but perhaps it is better I not write about that now...)_

_Surely the farmers would be more approachable? They can't be all so blood-thirsty, can they?_

_But what if they are more like the farmers from Middle Ages than I hope they are – superstitious and under the thumb of their lord? Somehow I think my clothing and language won't be accepted as easily as I hope for. Would I not be weary of a stranger dressed in a completely different manner too? But_ _I tire of being alone and lost here – I can't deny that. Why couldn't one from our group come with me? No, Meg you can't be selfish now - you don't really wish they were in the same troubles as you, do you? Why drag them into this mess and maybe get them killed or injured? NO – it is better they stayed behind. But I worry it is not so, I worry about mum – what will she do? How will she take it?_

_But__how the hell did I get here? How is it possible? And WTF is the purpose of stumbling into another world? Why even __have a connection__ to a place like this? It's madness! It might be cool and even make some sense in a sci-fi movie, but… this makes no sense whatsoever. I just want to go home. That is all I really want right now… Let someone else explore this mystery. _

_But I do wish I'd never even looked at that pendant, least of all picked it up. It can't be a coincidence, can it? I'm just afraid I'll get killed before I'll have even an inkling of what is really going on here. What kind of power does make something like this possible? __Is__ it even possible – well, I have to conclude that yes, it is, and I am a living proof of it. But if Indians knew about it… why didn't they retreat from the colonists here? _

_Well, __stupid__ – they probably did not have much choice if soldiers roam these places. Somehow I don't believe anyone got lucky enough to survive the first days, and I dread what end still awaits me._

I had to stop writing because tears threatened to pour out of my eyes and splatter onto the pages. I don't believe I had ever cried as often as in those first days. Loneliness creeps into the soul when all light is gone and the unknown sounds of wildlife disturb the night. Yet it was a confident face that I showed to the world in the morning; it was only the evenings and nights that were filled with low spirits and tears. It appears that sleep truly is a healer and had chased away the many disappointments and fears of the previous day, letting me breathe in cold air with a new confidence and hope. I firmly stood by the conviction that I had to show a strong face to the world, bury my fears deep inside to be able to move on. It might have been unreasonable to repress my emotions like that, but the painful events in my life had taught me to control myself in front of others. Yet there was no one to see me in the wilderness; I simply wanted to look confident because with time every mask transfers to the mind and into feelings – thus I _became_ more confident.

I watched the last rays of sun disappear behind peaks and the gradual lengthening of the shadows which swallowed up the landscape into a sea of black night. How quickly did I miss the warmth, the vivid reds and purples of the snow-capped peaks, the quiet chatter of birds… truly, darkness was never as dark as in those frightening days. I was not aware how much streetlamps and other lighting changed the night in my world, how bright and noisy it was compared to the inky black colour surrounding me. But now I knew and it was difficult to imagine that this was how night had appeared to my grandfathers once. For me it was always lighted up, light pouring from windows onto the streets and into next rooms… It was not hard to relate to the stories told about demons lurking in dark winter nights - I was scared without a fire keeping me company. The occasional hoot of owls was enough to disturb me when I tried to fall asleep. I dared not bring out my mp3-player and listen to music in order to drown out the unfamiliar sounds, afraid I'd miss signs of danger. I was really tense and quite skittish in those days, I must admit, and a soothing song or two would have done me a world of good. But I could remember lyrics in my thoughts and hum the chorus under my breath quite well and that, coupled with a strong fire, had to be enough. With fatigue closing my eyes it did not take me too long before sleep transferred me to the plane of dreams of no sense. It wasn't until the chill of the night crept under my covers that I woke up, the fire having almost gone out. I only banked up the flames and added a log or two, before I fell asleep again and woke when morning lighted the horizon once more.

As I woke up, I washed my face with few sparing splatters of water to truly wake up - no need to use the precious liquid when I would find a stream or a brook once I moved forward. Their icy waters would be good enough to clean up a little, even thought the low temperature sped up my heart in slight shock – at least my feet welcomed some respite this way, the skin developing first blisters now. I had two large ones on the outer sides of my feet that I had to tape over with a plaster before even imagining walking this day, and I feared I'd have several more despite the care I took to wash my feet with warm water. A light massage to get the ache out of the soles was very welcome relief too in the evenings. There was no time for a wash now and I preserved what water I had. I carried one bottle for drinking, one for washing and one for cooking - being careful with springs I boiled the water I collected from them, so I rarely used it for washing up. I needed it more to soften the meat and to get something warm to drink in the morning. I usually prepared myself tea and kept the used teabag, dried it to be reused again in the evening. I could have used one bottle for storing it when it was still warm, but decided on plain water instead. The flavour was weak and sometimes even bitter – cold tea would have been even worse. But I wanted to get as many cups as possible out of the package I had with me – I didn't know how long I would have to depend on it. I didn't touch the Rooibos though; that tea was only for really big comfort emergencies, I decided.

I packed everything, paid a visit to the bushes, and decided upon a new route when I found a good vantage point. It led me down toward the valleys since the cliffs I saw had promised more trouble than was worth. So, downhill it was. It did not take long before my legs protested at the exercise of slow descent, especially toes that bumped against the hard leather of boots, blisters an area of agony. The path itself was not easy at all and I often had to climb down, which was hard on my hands too – too bad that the easier parts were far and in between.

I surprised a herd of deer when I came to a clearing from an upwind direction. Their lithe bodies, white tails and big ears made me smile when they ran away gracefully. It was a beautiful sign of life in these woods and it warmed my heart – I had always been fascinated with anything furry. My friend's rabbits should have been proof enough because I seemed to go into meltdown as soon as I saw their big ears and little tails. These deer had coats of the most beautiful brown I had seen, still fluffy from winter. Those white backsides were really funny and I couldn't help myself but chuckle at the tranquil picture they presented even when they ran away with a gentle tremble over the earth.

After a few hours of wandering I stopped at a spot where several paths divided. The rocks and streams formed natural paths that were obviously a favourite with the game in the forest – I could see their numerous footprints. And even when I did not wish to repeat the events of the previous day, I decided to follow one of them. The air was cooler beside the water and I soon moved away from its vicinity. It was no easy trek, I must stress, but better than the paths I had followed or made before. I had to watch out for slippery mud and also for the branches of bushes that grew on sunny patches – they liked to snag on my clothing and the pack of firewood dangling beside my quiver of arrows. I noted that several of them were hazelnuts that were already waking up from their winter sleep.

The change of movement from descending to ascending was a welcome one for my legs after long hours of moving downhill, but my feet suffered regardless of direction. As it was, they were killing me on the upward course, so I planned a short break soon. Preferably by a stream that would soothe the sting of healing skin.

It was not long after I had enjoyed a break and a little repast and was on my way again that a strange feeling came over me. Uneasiness crept into my heart. There was suddenly a change in the previously light atmosphere of the day, a subtle shift I could not explain - a warning of some unnamed danger perhaps. I stopped, listening closely, trying to figure it out lest it turn out to be the doom of me.

The forest had grown very quiet, I realized, only occasional rustles of leaves and branches disturbing the air. _Is it that?_, I wondered. Was this what had alarmed me? True, it was odd; the sounds of wildlife have never been muted for so long - birds were always heard singing, only growing silent when something passed close by. I continued on my way after a while, puzzled. But my eyes strayed to the bushes and rocks more often than before. Whatever this was, I thought, it was not a coincidence. I had not yet forgotten the soldiers.

My footsteps were more conscious of the noise I made in an attempt to mask my presence. I was nervous, I admit, of walking into danger again, yet I tried to hide it. I looked for a spot that would allow me to survey the area, to put my mind at ease. A trunk of an oak that towered over younger trees offered just such an opportunity only minutes later; its old branches, showing the years and the winters it braved, opened up the area. It was the perfect place for looking around, maybe even climbing higher to get a better vantage point. I had displayed similar caution in my plans in previous days too. Short stops for mapping a route were nothing unusual – I often had to search for a path through difficult areas. But now I looked twice as hard at the surroundings. I might not have had many hunches, and my instincts did not warn me most of the times, but I learnt to listen to what I got. Circumstances forced me to. Yet despite this sense of unease, nothing wrong could be seen.

_Ok, false alarm,_ I told myself, sighing in relief. I had sped up my heartbeat with this foolishness one too many times over the last days and especially after painful flashbacks of the murders.

_Calm down girl, getting antsy won't help you a bit, _I warned._ A deep breath and off you go._

But just to be sure, I moved in a straight line towards the next hill, hoping to get higher up and away from whatever tugged at my sense of preservation. There were all kinds of predators to be expected after all.

I was at the foot of the hill, almost completely at ease again, when a sudden loud bird call had me jump, then freeze in my step. It had been loud among muted sounds, and different from any I had heard before, something strange in the colour and strength for a bird. I listened closely for a repeat, the forest faling silent now, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted up in an instinctual response. I had not recognized it at all and I got acquainted with all usual animal sounds over the last five days – something wasn't quite right, my mind seemed to say. Then the call rang out again.

My head snapped to the direction it came from, brows furrowed in puzzlement. _What __was__ that? _

My eyes swept over the trees and bushes but there was no large bird to be seen. From a distance the usual chatter of the feathered inhabitants of the forest could be heard again. It was quite peaceful really. Then another call rang out – this time from the direction I was headed to. It seemed more natural and benign than when it was closer to me – perhaps my untrained ear made it sound so strange? A crow's call was not pleasant at all either, I reminded myself.

Somewhat pacified, I dismissed my sudden interest in wildlife and continued on my way. But there was a niggling feeling in my mind that I could subdue only half-heartedly. To dismiss it completely was too dangerous.

I was climbing up the hill when the plaster on a blister moved from its position, exposing the sore area. It stung like hell once I reached the top and I looked for a seat with a curse on my tongue. Trouble always comes in threes, doesn't it?

With a few uncomfortable steps I was near a smooth-barked tree, hoping I had not yet rubbed off my skin – that would have been most unpleasant. A critical look told me it was not as bad as I feared. With my bare foot placed on the sock, I searched for a package of plasters I always had since the last pair of hiking boots had me bleed in a couple of hours. This was one of the reasons for the purchase of this pair, which performed far better than the previous one, I was happy to note. With practiced motions I had a fresh plaster over the tender spot. A few moves to determine whether it was on to tightly or not, and then my socks were back on. I was not particularly happy about still using the old pair, but knew I could hardly bother with laundry when I was too tired in the evening. I retied my boots to my satisfaction and adjusted the heavy backpack.

I had no idea that I'd arrived to a place just above the beacons, their hills hidden from my sight somewhere below. The men stationed in nearby posts were already scattered along the paths leading to them - it was their signal calls I had heard. How they managed to camouflage themselves so perfectly I would never know, but they were the elite, the 'pros' of this land's warfare – they knew what to do to remain unseen. There was not a spot out of place; worthy of admiration even today. It was just my luck I've wandered into their territory in the middle of the line of beacons and thus in the very centre of danger. It's never easy to admit you've done a foolish thing, but I truly had not expected them to be lurking about, waiting to intercept me – somehow I believed them to be on my trail, way behind.

The men were hidden at several locations they knew I'd have to get past. One of them was a path that led deeper into the mountains before turning westwards toward Rohan in many sharp turns and long bends. It began at a bigger stream with a shallow water level. I was headed right there and would stumble upon it in the next hour; the men were determined to cut me off.

The nervous feeling did not leave me the deeper I went into the forest. In the end I had to admit there _was_ something wrong, even if I did not know what. The realization left me in a bind - I had no idea what to do and where to turn to.

It was late in the afternoon and the shadows were already lengthening. It was time to find a new shelter for the night, I reminded myself, but the uncomfortable feeling had me move forward and past several good spots. I had enough time yet, I thought, and was determined to get as far away as possible. Little did I know that a group of equally determined men was hell bent on keeping their eyes on me and that they would do so with little trouble. My place in the history of Middle Earth was yet to be decided.

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**A/N: The story moves to new and dangerous ways soon ;) I hope you are looking forward to more interaction with the rangers and what our heroine is going to do. **


	6. Shadowed Steps

**A/N: **Major rewrite - flow better, some details changed.

**Edited – 25.1.2012**

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**Chapter Five: Unwelcome Company**

**or: Why trust your senses?**

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A sound of a stream could be heard as I came around another wooded hill almost forty minutes later. I sighed with some relief. My hands and clothes were streaked with mud from when I had slipped on a steep slope. I almost went tumbling down the hill! _That_ taught me to pay attention to where I put my weary feet. Now I itched to wash the dirt off – partly to wash away the evidence of my clumsiness, but mostly because I was really tired of being so dirty. I haven't had a decent wash in days - not to mention the smell of stale sweat coming off the inner layers of my clothes.

I wished I'd taken more than two changes of clothes with me. That would have come handy now, but unfortunately the additional load would have been more of a hindrance than help. The backpack was almost too heavy even so; my poor shoulders couldn't take any more. So I firmly erased all thoughts of the handy water-skins from my mind that now tempted me with visions of easily accessible water. The procedure I had to go through to refill my water bottles was too tiresome; backpack down, open the pocket, refill the bottle, backpack back up. It took too much time. Sure, I could get one bottle and leave my backpack on, but anything more… Well, it was no use crying over spilt milk, as they say. Besides, there was no danger of going thirsty yet. But a person gets used to modern commodities like tap water and the like, no?

But the thought of those water skins reminded me once again of the dead men. I had dreamt of that day a few times, and frankly, that was enough of a reminder, but my mind kept returning to it despite my efforts to erase it from my mind. The screams and the injuries, the helplessness I felt - that day would haunt me forever.

A shiver went down my spine at the memory of the massacre, only intensifying the feeling of some unnamed threat in the air. It had been my steady companion in the last hours, but no rational explanation for it presented itself. Now I wondered… were the nightmares only a way my mind dealt with the trauma or was there something more to them? I was not a superstitious person, far from it, but the strangeness of the last days made me doubt my beliefs. One night in particular was not a good one; in fact I had the most horrible dream I ever recalled, and that had to count for something. What bothered me was that the events of the massacre had blended with my own subconscious fears, and gave those unfortunate men the faces of my family and friends. To make things worse, I was unable to do anything, just watch from the sidelines. Was it punishment for not helping, I wondered.

Still, there was no use analysing dreams – I just knew that I'd never trust any men in this strange country. And I doubt knowing they were Anórien's rangers would have changed my opinion much at this point. I was too afraid to risk it. So it was not surprising that I was grateful it was only me wandering the woods and none of my companions. I had no idea (and also did not really wish to) how that particular event would have turned out if my friends had been with me. For one, it would have been harder to escape with no one willing to leave a friend behind, that's for sure. And more feet create more tracks; bad odds that. We would have had to split into two or three groups to get a chance at an escape, but knowing how everyone would be anxious to stay as close as possible, that would mean getting home unscathed highly unlikely. So I comforted myself with the thought that they were safe back home, even though the need for a friendly face was getting stronger and stronger. But I couldn't be selfish. My friends could have hardly been happy since my disappearance, and I really did not need additional responsibilities; I was in enough trouble for getting me here in the first place. I couldn't imagine the guilt, if I had put my friends in danger too.

All these thoughts and worries had not hindered me from falling asleep the previous nights though, as hard as that is to imagine. Too tired to care what my mind would come up, I did not even dread nightmares as much as any sane person would. They would come or they would not; it was out of my hands, I thought. Therefore I just covered the hard ground, found a comfortable position, and fell asleep as soon as I closed my eyes. My body learned to cope with the new and dangerous situation far better than my mind. But once the sun was up, so was the constant stream of smaller and larger worries and fears. The uncomfortable feeling of wrongness made me weary of my surroundings even before the incident with the soldiers happened.

I still felt slightly silly for my current paranoia because I was pretty sure it was only a stupid flock of birds I had never encountered before that had me so scared. However, the fear was too strong to make me disregard the warning and continue forwards with April's usual brash confidence. I was not her. The niggling doubt was enough to keep me on my toes. I hadn't seen any large predators yet, but that did not mean there were none, not when there were so many deer in the forest anyway.

If I had known the rangers waited right there by the stream, hidden among rocks and small depressions not far away from the water, I would have bolted right then and there. Not suspecting this, I went forward. It was only the very first line of guards I heard signalling my approach now. I shook my head at the repetitive bird call, still clinging to the belief of a flock, and went past them. My legs ached and I was really tired. I longed for that wash and a camping spot for the evening; I could deal with some damned birds later! I was too tired to jump at every shadow!

The soldiers were as silent as the grave as I approached the spring's shallow water. It barely covered larger stones in its stream, meandering around bigger rocks that lay in piles in larger depressions in the terrain. The ground here was soft and muddy, an occasional patch of white sand along the water. Therefore it was no wonder I easily spotted a large footprint, half erased by the slow water flow, but distinctive enough for me to understand what it was.

My body jerked to a jarring halt, my face bereft of all colour. I was rooted to the spot when a part of my brain (that did not yet yield to panic completely) issued a command to do something, even if it was to pretend nothing was amiss.

I prayed to all that was holy that nobody would jump from behind those rocks in the next seconds! I would not be responsible for my actions.

I was ready to run away, my feet poised for a hasty retreat into the forest, when I reminded myself I had to forge a plan. It wouldn't do to run into this man's arms, after all, and it certainly was a man with the size of the damned print. I swallowed thickly at my shitty luck, feeling unexplainably angry at the world. I stubbornly finished those two or three steps left to reach the water, and slowly breathed out the chilly air. I had to keep a level head here… My eyes darted towards the bushes, but nothing amiss was to be seen, which, oddly enough, made me all the more suspicious.

I crouched down, pretending to be busy washing my hands. There was no way I could pretend I haven't seen the print and no one would believe me anyway. Not after the rather dramatic reaction a minute before. I did not let my eyes leave the surroundings, not even for a second. I was sure there had to be something to explain the print, some clue as to the man's identity. It was rather suspicious he was alone – this area was too far away from civilisation for a one-man hunting trip. Was he a fugitive too? A criminal hiding away in the mountains? Not knowing who I would be dealing with if he returned made me really nervous.

Still, no matter where I looked after I finished washing there was nothing; no second footprint or sign of human presence. My hands began to shake. This was too much of a coincidence, I thought. My own footprints were easily followed, standing out from the ground in sharp contrast. How could there be only that one half-print left behind? He couldn't have walked on air! No, something was wrong…

_Is this what my bad feeling was all about?_ I wondered, cursing in my mind. It was impossible to judge how long ago the man had passed the stream, and where exactly he disappeared to when no other print was available to me. Had he used my own technique and walked in the water? But why would he step outside and leave such an obvious trace? It made no sense whatsoever.

_Why the Hell did you walk here?_ I whined to myself, thinking it very unfair of him to have crossed my solitary man, no doubt, thought it very inconsiderate of _me_ to dawdle. He was sitting in a prickly bush, far enough to be completely undetectable.

I waited only for a short moment longer at the water before my misgivings of the exposed spot made me move behind the boulders. Nothing untoward had happened yet; was it possible the print was far older than I thought? Was the man already far away? I could not be sure since I haven't learned to read prints, but things seemed to suggest it was a possibility. Nonetheless, I was spooked. To wait here any longer appeared too risky for my taste. I would not be surprised again, I vowed.

The soldiers, in turn, had made some vows themselves. They were determined to get to the bottom of the attacks and suspicious movements along their borders. And as I shared some physical traits with the men they hunted and was on the run myself, they quickly labelled me one of those people - a Dunlanding. But no, I was not a member of a rebellious nation living west of Rohan, and most certainly not a messenger running between the groups at the border.

Since I came from an area dangerously close to Minas Tirith that alarmed the soldiers, but the fact I was a woman also had them confused. Women were not expected or encouraged to participate in warfare, and when they did it was only to protect their homes and families. I was an enigma and a rather startling development in the war with the Dark.

Coming from a different world or, more accurately, a universe, I had no knowledge of this or the political machinations and plots of the times. Thus their plan to find the hiding place of the Dunlandings was not going to bring them the desired results. I did not recognize the shoe they used to plant that print and to lull me into a false sense of security, nor did I desire to follow it and consequently fall into their hands. My only wish was to get as far away as possible.

Knowing there were people nearby, I decided to leave as few of my own prints as possible. Sticking to the hard ground and bare rocks along the stream would have to do, I thought, although experienced trackers could probably find a trace there too. Was it small bits of dirt left behind they followed? I shook my head at the thought, knowing that there was little I could do in that case, but also doubting such tracking skill were even humanly possible. It would stretch the limits of feasibility… Nonetheless, it was always better to minimise any tracks, so soft ground was out of the question. The treads of my boots were too distinctive and easy to track there.

I stepped onto the patch of small pebbles and carefully followed it upstream, hiding behind every possible surface. After a short distance that would muffle any sound made, I firmly entered the shallow water, continuing on my path towards the peaks. Though their very sight was intimidating in the extreme, it was the only direction left that I could safely pursue. There was no turning back, no descent into the valleys and no straight trail leading towards the west; those ways were shut to me... A feeling of foreboding rose up - I was slowly but surely getting boxed in by my own choices. If push came to shove I could not climb those peaks – it would be pure suicide! So why was I walking in that direction? Was my cowardice to become my doom?

Following a stream was still a wise decision, I firmly reminded myself, but it has somehow evolved into a dangerous habit, a very predictable reaction to any stressor from the environment. I was only dimly aware of possible repercussions of that, but knew I had to find alternative ways of escape and survival very soon. It was a little miracle to find a stream handy when it was needed. It was the snow covered peaks and glaciers of the mountain range I had to thank for that. It will not always be so, my mind supplied. I was burning through my options too quickly; coupled with dwindling supplies and exhaustion that was a recipe for a disaster. I so rarely knew what to do beyond the present moment in this land – it scared me and yet I could think of little else to do.

Stumbling up the rocky terrain, I cursed the damned footprint with every foul language I could scrape together. _Never imagined you'd be running from the plain old Homo sapiens, eh?_ I thought bitterly, gritting my foolishly I had been lamenting the lack of people only days ago – what a joke! Now I was doing everything to avoid the first one crossing my path. No decision could be right in this dilemma. I desired company yet at the same time I was afraid of meeting anyone in case they turned out to be a danger to my life and person.

_Thank God, my friends are safe!_ I thought, pausing to observe the terrain and remove the bows from my shoulder. The path was gradually narrowing and I could hardly meander along the low-hanging branches and tiny pools of icy water when bows got in the way. I had initially tried to carry them tied to my backpack but that had been even worse than carrying them over my shoulder. If my backpack were less bulky, perhaps it would have worked. Still, they were far too large – almost as tall as I! It was easier to hold them horizontally to my body and use them to balance on the stones. In any case, to hold them above water and away from snagging branches was a must; I had to prevent water damage - the wood could get brittle. Generally speaking, water and wood are not exactly friends; that is why a good varnish is crucial and these bows had almost none.

A rustle drew my attention and I moved on. It could have been an animal, a bird, or the wind. I had no idea it was a few soldiers following my path. However nasty a surprise I gave them by turning in a completely different direction, the men were level-headed and quick to adjust their plans. My rather cowardly escape meant one of two things – I either knew those prints were not made by 'my people' and that the camp I was searching for was not located nearby, or I was possibly working for a third party in the war. But whichever of the two scenarios it was, they now knew they were dealing with a different kettle of fish altogether. But no one could even suspect I was a lost traveller from a different world.

It did not matter what or who I was, not really, I was suspicious enough to be deemed too dangerous to be left alone. The soldiers needed answers and the best way to get them was to observe, be patient, and plan ahead. From this hour on I had someone shadow my back. An occasional rustle of leaves was the only thing revealing their presence. They were wise to keep quite a distance between us since I was skittish enough to bolt at any moment, as proven before.

_Why do shivers still run down my spine if nobody's there? _I wondered maybe half an hour later.

Sweat clung to my brow and pooled at my back and yet my hands were clammy, my fingers icy from innate fear. The day was turning into evening and it was high time to find a good shelter for the night. Even now I felt the distance between me and the man was too short.

With a grimace that was both mental as physical I contemplated the thought of another cold night without a campfire. It was the best option I could come up with in this short time to avoid unwanted attention. Who knew how far away smoke was smelt and light seen?

I was spared the repeat of this particular miserable experience when a better option presented itself to me. The stream suddenly twisted in a wide circle around and up a high hill. It squeezed through a narrow passage between two big rocks, blocking the entrance into a canyon. I could see the terrain here just promised to have deep depressions and hidden nooks – perfect for any hiding fugitive. I could maybe even dare to light a small fire. But first I had to get over the steep hill; I could hardly squeeze into that small canyon.

It was quite a difficult climb, especially since my legs were just about crying out for rest. Unfortunately, when I managed to get to the top, I realised I had laid down my plans too soon. There were no rocks forming caves or uprooted tress to lean branches on. The sun was already setting down and I had only very little time left to find a passable shelter. There was nothing I could use to curl up for the night in the vicinity. It was far to open to the elements, as the bitter wind chilling me to the bone testified to.

I sighed in disappointment and wearily continued towards west, following a natural path of crisscrossing old roots. These steps were far gentler on my feet than steep inclines. The temperature dropped too, but it wasn't as cold as in the night I had been afraid of freezing to death. I was silently thankful for that.

Evening fell and shrouded everything in its dark shadowy blanket when a poor shelter offered itself to me. I hesitated to use it; nonetheless I felt it was my only choice, it would be too dark very soon to search for another. It was just a slight depression under a very large bush, nothing extraordinary really, but it was closed in from two sides, which was more than I could hope for to find in the short amount of daylight left. It was a shame I couldn't construct a roof over my head; there were just no right branches around that I could use. _Perhaps it is better so, you'll leave fewer traces this way, _I consoled myself.

My heavy backpack thrown off my aching shoulders, I was on the search for smaller branches for a fire and some other things I could use to close off one side of the shelter. It's always better to have three rather than two walls. I did find some promising twigs and larger branches that would do and hauled them back to my spot. I carefully removed dried leaves and made a small pit in the earth for the fire at the entrance – I almost needed the extra light by now, but a fire had to wait.

Somehow I managed to construct a small wall, just tall enough to hide me from sight. It would be enough to stop the loss of warmth, I concluded. I could even use the branches in the morning to feed the fire for my breakfast and not bother with hauling them away.

The place still wasn't ideal by far and I had had better sleeping arrangements in the previous days, but I could not hope to get lucky every day. With my remaining energy I moved the dried leaves by the entrance and heaped them on the ground inside the impromptu shelter. A blanket over it and my bedding was made; another night on the hard ground. _Joy_. I used the kindling I had found and fumbled with the lighter to get a fire going in the pit. It was quite dark and I was very hungry. My feet also ached and I wished to warm myself under a warm blanket.

"Get going, please…" I pleaded as I watched small reddish flames lick at the dry twigs I had thinned with one of the men's knives.

_Thank you!_ The flames caught and greedily moved to larger pieces of wood not soon afterwards. I relaxed and carefully added a larger branch. I took out the package with food from the backpack and selected two potatoes that I would place among the embers and three pieces of dried meat. Those would be prepared one after another since my utensils were not meant for cooking larger amounts of food.

I boiled the water I had collected form the spring, and slowly prepared my dinner and the majority of my breakfast at the same time. I would just heat it up in the morning, I decided. I did not wish to be here longer than necessary; the last several hours had made me eager to leave as soon as possible. I do not know how my watchers spent the night, but they probably were not much more comfortable than I was.

At least one hour passed before I was finished with cooking and eating and only then was I able to tend to my feet. The food had warmed me; I was prepared to get my boots and socks off now that I was not so cold. I left the two plasters in peace and carefully wiped the surrounding skin with one cotton handkerchief in my backpack after pouring some of the cooling water on it. I had to take care of my feet – they had to be clean of the grime and sweat if I intended to walk any further. I wished I were able to do the same to my entire body, but it was to cold for this kind of a bath.

I curled up on the blanket and tried to fall asleep watching the small fire. It was far easier than I expected; I was asleep not soon after my eyes had closed for the night. I quite forgot about my unease and the print.

Nothing disturbed my sleep until early morning.

**OoOoO Alone OoOoO**

The new day dawned with a myriad of reds and gold, but I was awake long before the impressive show. I covered the embers with the soil and dirt I had dug up and rolled up the blankets. I wanted to be as far from this place in the shortest span of time. The revelations of the previous day gave me no peace - something wasn't quite right. I still had this really stupid feeling that someone or something was watching me. I usually knew when someone tried to sneak behind my back and frequently surprised them with a witty retort for their efforts before they reached me. Now almost the same sensation crept down my spine, but there was no one to be seen.

_Get out of here, Megan …_ I thought.

I ate quite a large breakfast since this was the best strategy for the long trek that lay before me and was carefully packing my backpack as dawn sent its first rays across the sky. I did not rush this chore; I was not _that_ desperate to escape. Good preparation is the key for a speedy journey – if anything were to happen, knowing where food, first aid and other necessities are is crucial, and since the weather and terrain demanded different things, I had frequently moved them from one spot in the backpack to the other. However, I was more focused and meticulous about the sounds of the forest, though they seemed the same as ever.

I was on the way when the sun came up and the day began. I stopped only for a few moments to enjoy the lovely view. _A kingdom for a camera! _was my first thought. I smiled imagining the retort of my Canadian friends had I truly done that. The reminder of my loneliness wiped the smile from my face and I sighed in resignation.

_There's nothing wrong with missing your friends_, I reminded myself. And I was allowed to enjoy the scenery. Besides, stopping to learn the layout of the area could only help me. So I turned my face towards the sky and enjoyed the play of colours. My eyes welcomed the light and a smile soon found its way on my lips. The fresh smell of the forest was even more pungent to my city-dweller's nose, the humidity of the night bringing out all nuances. But I noticed that the distinctive smells and aromas became less and less extraordinary with each day spent in the wild. I was slowly acclimating.

As I gazed at the peaks flushed pink and gold form the morning sun, I could not help my thoughts return to my family and friends again. I dearly wished to share this experience. I missed my parents - as much as any twenty-one year old girl could do. We did spend some of our holidays in the Alps and the scene reminded me of one of my favourite trips. I was sure my mother would have loved this early trek. My friends at home would think me mad for walking around at this ungodly hour, though.

The cold was not enough to force me to get up and going the previous days, but fear was a great motivator now. If I were not afraid for my life, I would have stayed in a place like this for a day or two – to rest, to plan... There was also a lazy streak in me that would have me curl up for a few extra hours of sleep each morning – and that would get me nowhere here, I reminded myself again.

With a wry twist of my mouth I ignored the powerful display in the east and got going again, my mind curiously full with thoughts. The first rays had not yet warmed the air, so I was shivering slightly, which I knew would continue for at least a couple of minutes before exercise would warm my body. That reminded me – I've been quite cranky when cold these days, but thoughts of giving up only appeared when I was too tired to care for 'stupid plans'. Yet when I walked along picturesque paths and streams this sentiment and fatigue seemed to disappear. It was like I've soaked up the positive energy of the beauty around me - a clear and cold early spring beauty that just cleared the mind of clutter with its crispness of both light and air. Nature gave me hope, kept my spirits up. How could I despair when life was awakening around me?

Mornings were the best parts of the day, truly a fresh start; I did not feel the cruel bite of loneliness when the world was just waking up. I was a silent type of a person in the mornings, contemplative perhaps, or just not tuned in entirely into life, so I did not really mind being alone, but later on in the afternoons and evenings the utter lack of human presence got to me. I would have to keep my eye on that, I realised.

A last look at the rising red disk and I turned my back on it and entered the shadows of the trees. _No time for lingering now, I have to warm up first_, I reprimanded myself when a pang of disappointment went through me.

I walked at a steady pace for some time, the men following me unseen at a slower one. To keep track of each other and me they continued to signal with bird calls that I, to my mortification, still thought to be the real thing. It was almost comforting to know some things never changed – birds were everywhere. How could I have known they had several sets of signals to choose from? I would have realised sooner or later that something is wrong if they used only one call. But since I had barely begun to differentiate between species found here their presence was well concealed.

When nothing directly indicating human activity in the woods was found the longer I walked, I relaxed. Even my gut feeling ceased to warn me about pursuers at one point. _Is my sixth sense even reliable_, I wondered many times when nothing was found to justify it. Perhaps I felt it too stressful to concern myself with stupid indistinct feelings; I know I pushed a lot of thoughts and emotions back, hid them in dark recesses of my mind. Something strange or unusual was nothing new in this unfamiliar world, and I began to take things in stride. It was better than being worried or worked up about it anyway – it did no good.

Walking under pines, hidden from view and wind, I felt comfortable in my skin for a first time in the last days. A small hope sprung up in my heart that whispered to me that I had done enough to cover my tracks. I listened to it, partly because I was quite annoyed by the constant fear that seemed to cling to my mind. I had no influence over actions of other people, animals; so, why bother? But I did speed up my pace slightly after daylight became a stronger and the shadows shorter. I noticed first flowers blooming at sunny patches of the forest. Tiny white blossoms and some yellow too. I did not know the names of the plants but they were somewhat familiar. I took them as a sign that the trees would wake up soon too.

I wandered around the forest for hours, searching for paths and trails that would lead me to a place in the mountains where I would feel safe, where no people have gone before. There I could rest, lie low for a couple of hours... But such a place continued to elude me, and I moved forward continuously. I know I must have led the men on quite a merry chase. There were many dangerous situations too when they would have been revealed; I arrived at one dead end after another and made to return, almost surprising them. One would think my rather embarrassing stumbling around would have cured them of the delusion that I knew what I was doing, but they followed me tenaciously. I think I would have seen the signs they left were I but trained a bit in the art of tracking; however, I completely missed them.

I did, nonetheless, manage to stumble upon a path of sorts. It was not the one the soldiers had been afraid I would reach in the lower forest (made by them and the usual patrol of the beacons), but a path made by some of the people living in villages in valleys below. At least a year ago they must have desired some kind of special timber to have travelled all the way here to get it. I found nothing strange with the weathered trail since it was old, but it was quite unusual for people of Anórien to cut down trees in this remote place when the outskirts of the Druadan forest were so close. But then again, the villagers thought this forest theirs and not of the Wild Men, who would take offence at such actions done upon _their _forest.

I did not bother with why's and how's, but was happy to be walking on fairly even ground and not climbing and slipping all the time again. The events of the previous day made sense all of a sudden; surely that print was connected with this old path! I was slightly relieved at the explanation, even though I was again on the lookout for other people in case I was wrong or if more people were coming. A quick analysis of my height and strength ran in the back of my mind, and I knew I'd be no match to a person even remotely taller than me. Again I reminded myself that running away is always the better alternative in this world.

My trek on this path was easy and I made quite a progress before it turned north and towards the valley and I could no longer follow it. The day had turned into noon already too. There were no prints that I could find, and that bothered me a bit, but I concluded that the man from the stream had not yet been here. _I better disappear too, _I thought_._

"It was too good to be true, I guess," I muttered, disappointed I would have to leave the easy path, and slowly climbed up a nearby hill. It was the wildness again for me. Tired and hungry, I continued on this route for a long time, making only short stops to drink water or to nibble on some of the dried fruit in an impromptu lunch. The amount of fruit dwindled fast, yet I was not bothered much about it; I had enough potatoes and dried meat. Not the best and most palatable food, for sure, but it made due. The absence of spices really did nothing for the flavour though.

My stomach was giving me signals after two hours spent walking again, but I had no time to get a fire going and cook. The daylight was better used for walking; and so I did, nibbling on anything edible still left to quiet the pangs of hunger.

The soldiers were like ghost – an occasional rustle of leaves was still heard, but their footsteps were so subdued that the sound appeared to my ear to be just a soft wind playing with leaves. A breeze had been blowing from the morning hours on, bringing new rain clouds closer. I observed the change of weather as I sat on a rock during a short stop, stretching my legs and freeing my shoulders from the burden of a heavy backpack. I moved my stiff neck in gentle motions to get a kink out of it – sleeping on the floor without a proper pillow was wreaking havoc on my neck muscles.

It was when I began to massage the most stubborn spot that would not cease aching that I felt the leather cord around my neck and was reminded of the bone pendant. I pulled it out. The bone was warm from the contact with my skin.

I shook my head at it – this small object had become almost a talisman of sorts in the time I have spent on the journey. I felt it when I lay down to sleep - its shape and weight a constant reminder that everything I experienced was real. When I was stressed or just in a contemplative mood, my hands would stray to it, seek depressions and its smooth roundness. It was almost like when I had my earrings on; my fingers would always unconsciously rise up to play with them. The same happened now. I turned it one way and the other, my fingers caressing the smoothed surface as I soaked up the sunlight.

I relaxed in the peaceful moment, listened to the sounds of the forest and wildlife. I had chosen this spot because it was raised above the tops of the trees; it offered a perfect view of the sloping mountains and valleys below. The feeling of being observed had disappeared entirely few hours ago so I felt comfortable enough to take off my boots and give my poor and abused feet some well earned respite. It was time for another snack too – it was late afternoon already, almost start of the evening, and I was very tired.

I moved my toes with satisfaction, chuckling how ridiculously big my feet appeared in these socks. I wrote down some notes about the previous day in my journal while chewing on a piece of cheese. Feeling very responsible I also changed the numbers on my stock list. The landscape itself tempted me to sketch it, but I knew I had no time for such artistic impulses. I did try myself with a stumbling haiku, bolstered by the comfortable weight in my stomach, but since I was never a great poet the result was not even worth the ink used. It was nevertheless a short practise of my Japanese when I tried to translate it. I have promised myself I would practice for the next semester of calligraphy one of the more enthusiastic professors set up for the elective classes. However, school did not matter anymore – I had little hope of returning home in time. Despite my lack of faith in a speedy return though, I stubbornly refused to give up everything of my old life just because I had landed in the middle of nowhere. I capped the brush pen used for writing calligraphy and packed everything up.

_No more whining, Meg. What's done is done, _I told myself firmly_._

As soon as I moved away from the spot I felt a tingle start between my shoulders.

_For Christ's sake Meg! Just find out why the heck you feel eyes on you all the time. You're not getting soft in the head, are you? _

My hackles rose at the sensation when there was nothing I could see that would explain it. I moved faster through the forest, intent of getting away from the spot giving me such willies and perhaps even shake off whatever was trailing me. The thought of another set of pursuers or predators made my stomach flip and my heart speed up its pace.

I disappeared among the bushes, carefully stepping over the small white flowers that seemed to be growing everywhere. In no time at all I was wearily dragging myself up another of the thousand slopes in hope of shaking off the pursuers. There was a series of cliffs and boulders, the terrain consisting of several levels made of bare rock and patches of trees. It was a first of the peaks of this mountain range even if it would not really belong to the category of mountains in the Alps. A part of it was cleft in two by a narrow canyon or passage (whatever it was it had no water this time of the year), and I followed the path filled with smaller rocks and debris towards it. I wanted to get higher up and the canyon seemed like a good way to do so. There was a white path higher up – they had to be connected and I could hardly climb these cliffs.

_There might even be a shelter for the night, _I hoped with some moderation gained by the situation of the previous day. Darkness always came too soon and yet a few hours too late here in my opinion. I could not make up my mind whether the days were too long or too short. Perhaps it was only the more relaxed hours when I was warming myself at the fire that were too short. I had enough of walking to last me a lifetime.

I was at the entrance of this canyon when a sound of moving stones and debris was heard. I froze in a second and heard how small chunks rolled down the slope somewhere to my left. Something had disturbed them, but there was no sound of an animal rushing away to be heard. It had to be a pretty heavy animal to dislocate such an amount. _Are there people waiting here? _came the unbidden thought.

My eyes darted to the location of the sound and combed the tall walls, but nothing was seen. If there were loose stones waiting to roll down when I'd be walking in that narrow passage, I had to find a better path - a less dangerous one. I did not know the reason why the debris moved; it was better to err on the side of caution and stay away from narrow passages that could come crushing down upon my head. I did not relish the thought of being hit by a falling rock or two. And were there people who spied on me – what my gut feeling was trying to tell me for a while, I grudgingly admitted – I should get the hell out of here_._

I lingered just for a few moments more, weighing the pros and cons of following the path while still hoping to see what or who disturbed the rocks. There was a large and dark shadow over the spot where the stones had slipped from in my estimation, but nothing else could be seen there. I was getting angry for feeling so insecure and frightened again, but the walls were steep, filled with holes and debris… there were simply too many loose stones to make me feel comfortable enough to walk through now.

The feeling of being watched intensified and the narrow passage with only one exit became more and more unpalatable to me. However, I felt equally afraid of turning back from where I came. It was truly a strange feeling.

What are the chances those rocks rolled down the slopes of natural causes, I wondered, when there are no indicators it was a frequent occurrence. Very low, I answered, but I was still not sure either way. I looked around the to see if there were any new stones lying there, fresh cracks from the tumble revealing white insides that would give me a clear answer. If there were, the passage was too dangerous. But when I looked only the small pile I have heard slide was there, other pebbles and larger rocks were already covered in mud and lichen and therefore old slides.

_So, this was a rather singular event, _I concluded.

The discovery of this and the odd timing made me wary and I turned around. A loud bird cry that had accompanied me yesterday suddenly made a new appearance, echoes and replies immediately following it from different directions.

_This is no coincidence!_ my mind cried suddenly. Before I could stop myself, my eyes were combing the woods with a suspicious gaze. _Ah, well, you've just given yourself away..._I grumbled. It did not matter though; what was important was that I finally connected the dots. The damned bird cry was a _signal_ and I _was_ being followed. My heart tried to relocate into my throat and I quickly beat down a sudden bout of panic before it managed to blind and prompt me into acting rashly.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _I admonished. _Stick to open areas…_

A series of deep breaths calmed me down somewhat, while I slowly inched away from the canyon. _No need to give them ideas... _I knew very well how lucky I had been that rainy day – those men were no doubt good archers. A wrong move on my part and I might find myself with a piece of wood in my shoulder or even in some vital area. It is prudent to avoid all close acquaintance of such kind, I thought.

Carefully I moved from the path at the first opening the forest gave me which led down a groove. There was no other choice but to move along the cliffs again – a situation that reminded me of past events perhaps far too vividly for my taste. Panic threatened to get out of control as I felt boxed in from every direction. My senses suddenly made every rustle an enemy.

Perhaps I was running away less than a quarter of an hour before the terrain became too difficult and slippery. There was a rushing stream heard nearby again; quite fast really. I knew enough by now to realise that the booming sound meant a deep canyon. I cursed my fate.

_Great, what I need now…_

I had wanted to collect water during the day but there were no streams on my path until this moment. At this time, however, the possibility of a canyon was a hindrance and not a help at all. I only prayed a passage across was near. I felt like a trapped hare already; a damn stupid and horrifying feeling.

I swallowed dryly as I climbed up the slope and arrived at a larger clearing in the forest. There was a group of huge rocks strewn at the base of series of cliffs, with dried grass lying on the ground like a sand coloured blanket. I would have enjoyed the view some other time, but right now I had no appreciation for nature. There were several calls I recognized as signals and the directions they came from only scared me more. They were getting closer!

_How many are there! Oh Hell – keep them away!_

At a second look I could see that the ground here was perhaps better suited to my needs for an escape than I initially thought, but there was one problem, a rather big problem called lack of time. The cliffs connected here, the different narrow levels of the forest moving in slopes from one to another at irregular intervals, forming a rather complex set of slopes and depressions; a narrow path could perhaps be found. Yet, an attempt at climbing should be tried only in daylight and not in the waning sunlight when shadows lengthened. I risked getting stuck in the walls for the night or even serious injury. The clearing and the cliffs were already shrouded in a shadow of a larger rock formation blocking the setting sun. It was cold here and shadows only added to the dark atmosphere.

Several bird cries rang among the trees and my heart sped up. At least I thought they were the same cries, but perhaps I was too scared to really distinguish a difference. My surroundings and sounds had blurred together; narrowed to one central thought - _RUN!_

But my feet were rooted to the spot. _Where should I go?_ I felt my face loose colour as terror took over. I was caught in a web of conflicting thoughts, commands and fears. If an arrow were to hit me then, I believe I would only think: _"Well, I was right. That was no bird cry – damn…"_

My higher thought patterns shut down and placed me under the care of the instinctual and animalistic part of my brains. It was _their_ turn to take care of me now. It was a time when only instincts could help, no amount of planning or cunning would do. _Fight or flight._

But a moment later I still stood at the spot, adrenaline pumping through my veins, rushing blood the only sound I heard. My breathing was harsh, dark spots appearing at the edge of my vision. I could feel a vein at my temple move with the strain of rapidly pumping blood. My ears buzzed and I could not get enough air to breathe.

_Breathing – yes - that might be a good idea… _I thought dimly. Suddenly a loud mental command snapped me out of it. _BREATHE!_

My limbs were suddenly under my control again. But they were so weak - legs locked together at my knees, not able to move forward. To prevent myself from collapsing in a heap and giving my pursuers ideas I quickly knelt down, supporting myself with one hand as I tried to get as much air as possible inside my lungs. I closed my eyes and somehow dimmed the buzzing in my ears.

_There is no time to be kneeling here! _Was the next command my brain issued, but I could not yet run away. No; I had to get a better idea.

I looked at the forest behind the curtain of hair from the high ponytail I had made in the morning that covered my face. There was nothing extraordinary to be seen in the forest as far as I could discern, but the rocks could be a possible hideout, I concluded. They did look like a perfect spot for hiding. Perhaps the men are already there, I realised. I was definitely in enemy territory.

The phrase provoked all kind of images from movies about the Vietnam where men were lost in unknown parts of the jungle. It had almost made me burst out in nervous laughter at the absurdity of my mind. _My situation _was not even remotely like _theirs_.

_Where are they? Where do they hide? _I asked myself nervously._ Are some of them hiding there and others a group of dogs herding me where they want me to go?_

The thought made me take another series of deep breaths to steady my nerves, but my hand holding the bows was white-knuckled. Slowly, I straightened up and turned my white face towards the forest where I had last heard the bird call. I had nowhere to hide or run to – I had to face them. But I wondered if they were trying to make me believe there were more than the few I had heard. If it was only seven or so, like the last time, I had a chance to escape again, albeit a very slight one. I was tired, it was almost night-time and my nerves were a wreck.

But then something occurred to me – what if they were some other group of men? What if I was facing the other side of whatever conflict they had among themselves? Friends of the men who had died?

It was no use speculating and letting my thoughts run in circles. I had to see them to know who I was facing, but facing them would mean giving up thoughts of escape.

I stood in the clearing with tufts of dried and trampled grass which crunched under my boots when I moved my feet so that my weight was evenly divided between them. I looked at the cliffs, wary of the perceived danger, and tried bravely to hold myself together. No matter what, I knew I would probably snap.

I peered into the shadowed forest. I thought I saw a shadow move along one edge of the cliffs, but the movement was over so quickly I wasn't sure what I had seen. I blinked and it was gone. And the fact that everything was quiet and calm, just like before a storm, made me even more nervous.

_If they are already surrounding me what will happen next_?

I could feel perspiration gather at my hairline… and I swallowed thickly. I could faintly hear phantom screams of the men I had tried to bury and this made me swallow once again.

I turned away from the rocks. I had to escape; through the bushes and into the forest was the better idea. I had more chances there – _I won't get caught!_

Then I saw a man standing beside a tree once again.

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**A/N: I know, nasty cliffy... ;) **

**Read, enjoy, review!**


	7. Feather tipped Arrows

**A/N: **I think there will be no problem for my readers to know when Megan is thinking and the men talking in a foreign language, even if I use italics for both. The small bit of Sindarin is translated. Comments on the language are welcome since I really don't know that much about it yet.

Beta read – 7.9.2008

**Edited: 7.3.2012**

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**Chapter Six: Feather-tipped Arrows**

**or: How the enemy is introduced**

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A man stood beside a tall tree... _A MAN is standing beside a tree!_

I was just dimly aware I had jumped in shock and fright. My gaze was glued to him. Clad in greens and dark browns, his colouring was perfect for hiding in the woods, I realised. He had appeared so suddenly I was not sure he was real at all. It would not surprise me if I had conjured him with my fear, I thought. And did he scare the shit out of me with his rugged appearance! True, it was not hard to scare me what with my nerves strung to their maximum, but still – I was in serious trouble.

Despite the obvious surprise his appearance dealt me, I tried to hide my panic, but made a retreating step back instinctively nonetheless. He was huge! And his eyes, as far as I could discern, looked at me with a dark expression that made him appear even scarier in the shadows of the trees. His cheeks were covered with dark stubble that only enhanced the contrast black hair made with his fair skin tone. Eyes, the colour of grey steel, seemed to pierce through me and I instantly learned to dislike and fear the sensation. How could he appear to read me so well?

I do not know what he was thinking about me or what he saw on my face, but it was nothing good, I was sure of it.

I moved my left foot slightly behind me in a slow conscious retreat, but dared not move an inch further when he frowned harshly and stepped a step closer, his bow in hand. He had not yet placed himself in a fighting position with the arrow poised at my torso, but I was scared for my life anyway.

_Stay there! STAY THERE! Don't come closer – please! _I begged in my mind because I couldn't do so with my voice – it had abandoned me completely.

I could not imagine what would happen if he came nearer; what my fate would be if he decided to attack. My world narrowed down to the sound of dried grass crunching under his boots, my frantic breathing and the utter helplessness I felt. It was only the sound of new steps that had crushed sturdier grass stems under them that betrayed the arrival of several more men behind my back. I turned in one jump and froze when the tips of their arrows pointed at me. They had barely left the cover of trees, but I felt like they were just a step away.

_Oh, shit, shit, SHIT!_

The bows in my hand, taken down when I inspected the canyon, were useless without arrows that were safely tucked away far on my back. How bloody stupid of me! I couldn't possibly reach them even if I were a contortionist!

I gritted my teeth. I could have kicked myself for being so naive to believe they'll let me go. _This is not a movie for God's sake! Who in their right mind would let the witness to their crime escape? _I was smarter than this!

_Stupid hike and my stupid curiosity!_ I raged. _Should have left that relief alone!_

Even if I had those arrows now, I could hardly fight:one against seven? Not bloody likely. I was so fucked!

An urge to cry made me take in a shuddering breath. They were cunning bastards – they've waited for the end of the day when I was tired and unable to run away easily. _Why are such things happening to me?_ I wondered, raging at the unfairness. What had I done to deserve this? Was my compassion for those unfortunate men really such a big crime? What could one woman do? There was no reason that would justify this manhunt in my mind.

I looked at them. Now was the opportunity to see the faces of these killers, to take their measure, but only two things caught my eye - their weapons and their stature. Each was at least a head taller than I, and the impressive height difference made them appear even more cruel and savage to me. Their easy annihilation of those men was on the forefront of my mind now, like a warning meant to urge me to disappear as fast as possible. But how and where to?

Adrenaline, pumping in my veins at an impressive speed, suddenly turned everything into sharp focus; the sounds were louder, colours brighter, and the ache in my muscles disappeared from my mind. It did not last – I was too tired - and soon my surroundings turned into a blur, details forgotten and ignored as the main message of _fight or flight_ took the central stage.

I felt perspiration gather at my brow while my mouth went completely dry.

_Shit, Meg… that's the end of the journey..._

My legs itched to run away, but I dared not to. It would be suicide. It was strange though that they did not act either. We stood facing each other, no one moving a muscle - a parody of a rainy standoff few days ago. But there was no escape this time, no convenient rain to wash away my prints...

They were here to either capture or kill me – of that I was sure. And while neither option sat well with me, I dared not provoke them into action. This fragile state of motionlessness could last only so long; but it was a small respite, a breather before the storm... I would take what I could get.

My heart tried to jump out of my chest in a rhythm that would have killed an older person a while ago – never would have thought I'd die of fear. Funny, going like that...

I felt tears prickle the corners of my eyes, but I quenched them ruthlessly. I had no time to go all damsels in distress on them, so tears had to be pushed away and my mounting panic concealed, if not wrestled under control. It would not make them look kindly upon me to collapse in a sobbing heap. No, such dramatics would not move them. Therefore I had to stand tall and proud, even become defiant in the face of danger. I had to score some points, even if only to sooth my own wounded pride for being so stupid. I knew not where the strength came from, but perhaps the stubborn streak found deep inside me was the culprit.

The men looked at me over the rims of their bows. Those grey eyes were merciless, determined. Mine were undoubtedly widened in fear, pupils dilated. I tried to control my breathing but it was a useless endeavour. So I rather tried to gather all the anger I had inside me, all frustrations and fears, and mould them into something terrible that might give me a sliver of chance to get out of the situation alive. It was imperative they thought me dangerous enough to proceed slowly. I needed time I did not have; time in this limbo to live just a moment longer – I was too young to die!

Two of the men moved a fraction closer and all I heard in my ears was the rush of blood. It was time...

I swallowed and finally closed my mouth, pressing lips into a forbidding line. I became defensive, though fear was the dominant emotion. My hair was standing on end in horror, yet I was still prepared to defend myself - it was all that was left for me to do.

_Being petrified won't do any good, _I chastised_._ I had to find a way out of this and fast.

My eyebrows knitted together in either anger or defiance; the emotion was too twisted and knotted together to be recognizable, but still strong enough to clear away some of the surface fear to give me much needed clarity. I gritted my teeth, breath still unsteady.

_Who are they to stalk me? Threaten me?_ I growled in my mind.

My left eyebrow twitched. No, I was not going to be cowed so easily! They had just surprised me, nothing more. _I have escaped them once, I could do so again, _some part of me saidand with it foolish hope alighted within my heart. Immediately my slippery hold on the bows tightened in preparation for any action this fresh bout of determination would bring; though white knuckles betrayed it for the flimsy mask it was in reality. Fear and downright terror were two emotions I could not push aside. I was scared shitless, but a coward I was not. I would not let my fear control my actions, no.

I concentrated on bringing back my anger, my disgust at their actions – they would numb doubts and uncertainties. I had to trust myself if I was to survive. I was not going down without a fight or at least some resistance, short-lived it would be. I was just too small and too light to take more than one adversary at a time, least of all these seasoned warriors who outweighed me by half. They could snap me like a twig! But still, I was determined. I knew it was kind of stupid to fight, but I would not let them bully me into anything. If I was to die then I'd go down with a bang and my dignity intact, thank you very much. People had faced worse odds, and if they could look death and violence into the face, then so could I, I firmly reminded myself.

The men apparently got the message my changed posture and stone-faced expression conveyed - they stopped their advance. This made me pause. I seriously doubted they cared much for my feelings to oblige me. What did they want?

Their faces and eyes were unreadable, but it wasn't hard to figure out they did not like my attitude at all; it made it so much harder to get what they wanted. Someone always gets injured in a fight – it's a fact. God forbid they got killed by a slip of a girl! That would be really an ignominious way to go... But it was an insult in itself that I dared to defy their greater strength. They were no doubt tired of the chase and wanted to get the matter over with. There was just one problem: I was not in a charitable mood at all. I had no idea what to expect in their hands beside death and injury; I would not make it easy for them.

So they were once again in position at the edge of the clearing and did not move forward - waiting. _But for what?_ my mind cried. I couldn't leave the damned clearing this way!

My nerves unravelled. My hands began to shake with tremors. I was not one for mind games and this sure smelt like one... What the hell did they want? I will not run and make them shoot me! Or did they wish me to dance around the clearing one step at a time until darkness fell and they could sneak upon me?

_Will they be merciful with a woman or will they unleash all the cruelty they posses upon me?_ some small part of me wondered, before I quashed it.

Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't know they had hoped to scare me enough to surrender freely. But they kind of expected I would not follow their plans and desires. I was unpredictable and stubborn; they had learned that the hard way by following me around the entire day. Yet a lot remained a mystery - that is why they hesitated to attack now. It would serve no purpose to injure me or make me more distrustful of them, but I did not know that. How could I imagine they wanted to take me into custody as peacefully as possible?

There were three things that made them proceed with caution. One - I was no messenger. I had missed so many well-known forest paths, stumbling around in search of new trails where there were none, that my ignorance was not even hilarious, only sad. At first they believed I was planting false trails or something, but then had to admit I was clueless, and a complete stranger to this part of the land. I could have come to Gondor on the Great West Road, but it was doubtful – I was too conspicuous for a messenger of any kind to brave those well-travelled parts of the land and not tip off other soldiers.

The second thing was that they were sure I was not a Dunlanding - there were too many things that did not add up. Yes, I was small of stature, yet my hair colour resembled more that of people of Numenorean descent. It was dark, almost black like theirs, but when I redid my braid in the sun it had shined with reddish highlights that were quite untypical, but still not a Dunlanding trait. My eyes were of brown colour, the predominant colour of Dunlandings, but my skin in contrast was pale with a generous amount of specks along my forearms (thanks to my redheaded mother) and several beauty marks on my face, and not tanned at all. My clothes with zippers and other strange things of modern origin were a mystery too.

Three - my little writing session. Not all people in Gondor knew how to read or write; mostly merchants and city folk of nobler descent, and even fewer in Rohan where oral tradition was strong. The number of literate people dropped drastically in the female population, as I later found out. I was therefore definitely not a member of Dunlandings even if I showed their dead respect and could have been a distant descendant of one of them. This particular skill, however, placed me quite high in society. Since my colouring and height were not that of a woman of pure Numenorean descent, I had to be a member of a line with mixed origins at least. But who with so little Numenorean blood could afford to teach his daughter writing and provide her with so many pieces of blindingly white paper? Was I perhaps from the southern provinces at the borders of Gondor? And if I was, what was I doing here alone? It was highly suspicious.

These and other unanswered questions prompted them to act. They were to capture and deliver me to one of the captains for interrogation. I was a dangerous riddle: an educated woman that helped Dunlandings and tried to escape at all cost, even when it was clear she had not much skill regarding survival in the woods and covering tracks. This was not something they could sweep under the rug and pretend it never happened. Just what was I hiding?

The tense situation on the eastern border made them even more wary. Everyone from that area was regarded with suspicion. So their eyes had shown that distrust and even a small amount of hate for traitors, before unreadable masks covered the emotions. However, that had scared me enough to never trust them and this distrust made my actions all the more suspicious to them. They were protectors of Gondor – I had nothing to fear if I was not an enemy.

There was just one problem. I did not give a damn if they were good or bad; soldiers running after me, hiding in the shadows of trees, or blocking my path - all of them were figures of nightmares to me. What did they expect really? This scene was far too similar to several I've seen in movies – usually the ones that start the hero's revenge in the first place. The chilling wind that swept through the clearing only added to my misery. Shadows were lengthening, swallowing leafless trees and jaded rocks – the perfect background for this set up. Any director would be proud to use it, I'm sure. Nature liked to display its more sinister side in waning light.

The sudden appearance of new armed dark men was just too much... I did not bother counting; I knew there were too many. With the first seven I just _maybe_ had a chance, but now... there were fifteen, twenty of them, but who knew how many were hiding elsewhere. This was truly a nicely conceived plan.

_Fuck! _

I was straight on panicking now. Even though I tried to muster the anger and disgust I felt for these men it evaded me, fear drowning the emotions. My heart hammered in my chest as I turned my back to the cliffs where none of the men could be seen. I could feel nervous perspiration gather at my brow; a tiny trickle began a journey down my hairline. I resisted the urge to wipe it away - I thought it more prudent to concentrate on the men in my line of sight. It was tricky though - they came from opposing sides; it was hard to keep track of their every move.

A sudden warning prickle at the back of my neck made me twirl around. Was it just my imagination or did my peripheral vision detect movement in the cliffs? If that shadow I had seen before had not been a trick of light – just what was there? It couldn't be they've surrounded me from all sides?

_Is there no one who will help me?_ I cried, knowing the answer was a resolute yes. There was no help on the way, no friends coming to the rescue - I had to accept I was all alone.

The men tensed at my sudden movement, ready to react, but calmed down again when it was clear I would stay where I was. They were suspicious of my every move, and I could not risk another jump like that again. Unfortunately, the position I froze in gave the closest soldier an advantage - I could not keep my eyes on him when my vision was obstructed by my backpack. I cursed my rotten luck, but quickly decided to focus on the soldiers I could observe more easily. Nonetheless, a shiver of foreboding ran down my spine when I presented him with my unprotected side.

I felt the fine hairs on my arms stand up even straighter as I looked at them. The deadly glimmer of cold steel in their hands made me painfully aware what fate awaited me should I displease them. They knew how to use those bows and swords – their hands were not even shaking from the effort of keeping them taut. The sound of flexing leather and wood was a testimony of just how little it would take to end my life. Images of the wounds I had seen made me slightly green, but the memory was enough to rekindle my anger at their disrespectful abandonment of the bodies. I firmly pushed away a niggling doubt about that – they had returned, haven't they?

I would not listen to that small voice of reason - I was waiting tensely to see what they'll do. I dared not take the first step; after all they've made it perfectly clear they did not like me. It was better they acted first. Perhaps then I would know what to do at last. The longer this standoff lasted, the higher the chance of me making a mistake. It was one of my failings - I did not act well under pressure that was _not _connected with exams or academia. Exams I could handle, but situations like this one were way out of my league. And I could not afford to make any mistakes…

_If this is how fear for your life feels like I never want to get into such a situation ever again... _my mind supplied unhelpfully. It was almost funny to note how crazy my thoughts became in the face of danger, but I was not laughing.

Just then one of the men stepped forward. His clothing was made of muted greens and some dark brown, quite suited for hiding in the forest. The bow in his hand was surprisingly _not_ pointed at me! Perhaps that was because he was not one of the men guarding the clearing – he came from deeper in the forest, from behind boulders littering the ground beneath the cliff. The bow's wood shined, clearly well-cared for, but still showed signs of heavy use. Those patches revealed a fine grain that I would have admired for its artistic quality if I were not too afraid of its deadly purpose. My eyes immediately searched for the quiver with arrows and found it on his back, the feathered ends visible above his shoulder; I rather preferred to see arrows tucked neatly away and not pointed at me. And although he appeared to be an emissary of sorts between us, his approach was not welcomed.

_God damn it! Stay away! I can hear you from here just fine if you want to talk! Stay away! I won't run! Just stay away!_

He did not heed my mental calls and curses, but moved with a fluid grace, making little noise with each step. I was instantly alarmed at his approach and seriously reconsidered waiting there for him, but the tensing of the soldiers was enough to nip these thoughts in the bud.

_This is it, _I thought, panicking.I could not trust him – no, I could not... With widened eyes I followed his progress, just about ready to bolt - _Damned be the consequences_ - when he finally stopped a respectable ten steps away from me. If he hadn't done that then, I really don't know how all this would have ended.

I nervously peeked at the other men before firmly setting my eyes on him. His own gaze travelled from my head down to my feet, making me feel extremely uncomfortable and nervous. I feared any hint of sexual nature in his eyes or the eyes of any man in this world. I knew only too well what happened to unprotected women in medieval times. When you fight for human rights, you know damn well what went on in the past. It was therefore a slight relief to note there was nothing lascivious in his scrutiny. Of course, the sensation of being laid bare was still perturbing. My eyes flashed him a warning to mind what he was doing. I was often told my face is very expressive and that I could 'kill' a person with one dark look, but if that were so, why wasn't he lying dead at my feet?

Despite the unfortunate harmlessness of my gaze, the tall warrior got the message loud and clear. To my immense relief, his eyes were instantly lifted above my chest level. The relief was short-lived though. His eyes pierced mine and held them captive. There was some emotion in them, but I could not decipher it. It was not hostility, but I could not work it out.

A rustle captured my attention and I broke the connection. My head cocked to the side – the sound came from the damned cliffs! I was sure now that the shadow I had seen was not a figment of my imagination. I could feel shivers run down my spine. For some reason my internal alarm system (that I had so unwisely ignored before), was warning me of danger at my back. That did not make sense – the soldier was before me. Something was wrong, seriously wrong...

I tried to get a better look with the corner of my eyes, but there was nothing. Suspicious now, I turned back to the man and lifted my chin in a show of confidence. If that were his people... But he too had been observing the cliffs, a small frown on his face. He turned to me again.

"_What is your name, girl?"_ he asked.

I looked at him puzzled, almost petrified by the first human voice after a week of silence. _What kind of a language was that?_ It flowed smoothly over his lips, mildly accentuated by the deep voice that had a slight rasp to it, but I did not recognize a single word. It was quite melodic, yet utterly unfamiliar.

New fear crept into my heart – how in the world will I be able to talk to him, if I don't know his language?

I said nothing in return; I did not know what to do. I had not anticipated this. How stupid of me – I had heard this language before in that damned clearing! It was one of the things that have alerted me to the bizarre nature of this land. _Oh for Christ's sake, woman... you've got to be kidding me! How did you manage to forget this?_ _Jesus!_

The leader was very obviously not happy with my lack of response and said something once again, this time with a slight edge. What could I do, damn it? He would not be disobeyed, but I could do nothing to calm him down. I gritted my teeth in frustration.

"_Tell me your name, now," _he commanded. It was better to say something, anything to keep him calm. Those daggers tucked into his belt looked wicked and far too close to his hand; the tensing of the men with their arrows trained on me was not a good omen for continued silence either. They could just cut to the gory part...

I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat and took a deep breath, locking my eyes to his again even though those deep pools frightened me with their power.

"I don't understand you," I said in a very appeasing tone of voice. Sort of like when I had to talk to an old lady that had a complaint or two during my summer job. "Do you speak any other language, perhaps?" I asked. Surprisingly, my voice was relatively steady, if a bit on the breathy side.

There was a spark of surprise in his eyes for a moment before they turned cold - very cold. I almost recoiled in an instinctual move. _What have I done wrong?_

"_Whom do you serve, girl? Who is your master? What is your purpose here?" _he barked.

"I really don't understand you," I told him and shook my head, hoping he would understand I could not comprehend a word he said. I tried to identify the language but my mind came up blank. Not a word was familiar. Sweat began to gather at my brow with renewed intensity. I was panicking. I had to make him understand.

_Ah, fuck! How can I make him see I have no clue what he is blabbering about?_

At the end of my wits, I did the first thing that came to my mind – I asked the basic questions all travellers learned by heart. Did he perhaps speak German? No? French then? Spanish and Russian were no help either. I was grasping at straws here by now – I did not know the phrase in Swahili or Arab, never-mind that I spoke only English, German and Japanese.

The knowledge was not necessary; his look went from cold to freezing the more languages I tried. I swallowed down the '_Nihongo ga dekimasuka', _(asking if he knew Japanese by chance) before more harm would be done. His mood had turned lethal and he tightened the grip on his dagger. I stepped away in fear, and he leaned forward, following. That made me even more frightened of him, putting two additional steps between us.

Suddenly a familiar sound of a whizzing arrow sounded in the air!

_AAAAH! _

I ducked instinctually, a cry of surprise barely leaving my lips in my haste to get reacquainted with the ground. I had no idea where it was coming from! Then a sickening thud was heard – my eyes whipped to the man with lightning speed where I saw, to my horror, that the arrow had found a target.

His surprised eyes were staring at me in dumbfounded horror, while a hand flapped feebly at the dark arrow protruding from his neck. Our eyes betrayed that we knew it was a fatal wound, but the shock of this sudden turn of events had us numb, incapable of any action.

I just stared at him in horror, all breath and strength robbed from me at the sight, when this horrible gurgling sound issued from his broken throat. A small river of blood burst from his mouth, he coughed and choked on the blood... His body jerked, eyes suddenly rolling backwards in their sockets as he sank to his knees in slow motion, looking at the dying light in the sky...

I did not realise that the horrible and ear-piercing screech rendering the stillness of the clearing came from me. I've never heard a scream like that before in my life. But the pain ripping through my throat was proof that it was me who was screaming her head off. That realisation made me shut up abruptly, but the scream of terror rebounded from the cliffs, returning magnified and multiplied. It was a chorus of screams that only strengthened the horror I felt.

I was in such a shock that even my body was too stumped to react. I've even lost my grip on the bows! Sprawled on my butt, I was gaping at the dead man just a few steps away from me... I couldn't tear my eyes from his empty gaze.

Then grotesque battle cries rang out and all hell broke loose.

I was petrified by the sight of the dead soldier, but the cacophony of voices coming from the cliffs had me on my feet in a heartbeat. In that time a hail of dark arrows descended upon the edge of the clearing, concentrating on the men who were staring at me in surprise. The soldiers scrambled to find cover amidst the trees from the deadly projectiles, but a few were almost too late in their shock over a fallen comrade.

I instinctively took cover and then I saw it - just there, where my back used to be while on the ground, was a second arrow! I gaped in horror, but the whizzing sound of a new round brought me to my senses.

I turned and another arrow just barely missed my face! If I hadn't moved, I'd be dead! I scrambled away as fast as my legs could carry me now. I had to get out of here, save my life! There was no time to wonder who the hell was attacking. I gave a damn for their conflicts and wars - I was not getting involved!

A few additional arrows whizzed in my direction but the majority targeted the men, who were fighting back now. I was just a runner, but that was enough of an invitation – arrows whizzed by me, one hitting my backpack when my back was turned to the cliffs. I felt the impact, but only later saw how lucky I really was to have survived.

I did not care at the moment though – I ran to the nearest edge of the clearing, avoiding a straight line that would make it easier to hit me, but still sprinting to the safety of the trees with all my might. The man who had surprised me was waiting there, shooting arrows towards the cliffs. I did not care, but just burst into the bushes a few steps away from him, almost stumbling over the roots in my haste.

Then one of the soldiers scored. Infernal growling, screeching and other sounds I didn't even know how to describe got even louder. I could only conclude that the majority came from the cliffs, but I was not able to pinpoint where exactly the enemy was in the forest - too many echoes confused me. A victory cry from the men redoubled their efforts while a sickening thump of a body falling down the rocks and landing on the hard ground could be heard.

I ducked down when another arrow whizzed by, hiding my head behind my backpack instinctually. The few moments that were necessary for the move made the arrow miss, but just barely. I was up in an instant, jumping behind the first broad tree I could reach. I wasn't even aware I knew to duck so quickly! But in my haste my foot slipped on the wet leaves and I ended on my rump with a dull thump that rattled my bones. I was winded and horrified, lying sprawled in an undignified heap on the forest floor, the bows lifted up in the air to prevent damage to them. I must have been a sight!

I could only lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath and bearings in this chaos. I had to get away immediately! I tried to get myself back together, but my emotions were definitely out of control. My hands shook again and I could feel a terrible sob rise up in my throat; where was my cool, my strength? I had none left - the racket from hell robbed me of the last vestiges of control. The buzzing of the man's bow was barely heard over the din these attackers made.

I picked myself up into a kneeling position, mindful to stay in the cover of the tree, and looked at the other side of the clearing. The trees there were like pincushions, black shafts sticking out at varying angles - this was far more serious than I imagined. This unseen foe had no scruples and did not pace itself either – just how many were there? It really frightened me, but the soldiers were not so easily intimidated, they did not fire their arrows mindlessly; they waited for the perfect moment before releasing their arrows back. _They do have a limited amount of them_, I reminded myself needlessly.

It was time to disappear - hopefully not to fall into the hands of the ones intent on killing us all. I shuddered at the thought of meeting them face to face. I could only just discern a strange and twisted language among the animalistic sounds. It was the complete opposite of the melodic tongue the other men used to shout instructions to each other. It would have been useful to know what they said, but I decided to trust my instinct and luck to see me through this. No planning could help me now - the chaos was only escalating with every second.

A few arrows whizzed in my direction again, but got stuck in the trees. _Now is a good time to go the hell out of here!_

I ran deeper into the forest, hiding from stray arrows behind every tree on the way. A slight depression that soon changed into a slope offered safety. _I will be safe there!_ My tired legs protested, but I ran towards it with all the speed I could muster when the man I had left behind suddenly appeared on my path from nowhere. I crashed into him with all the weight behind my small frame, unable to steer clear in my rush. He grunted at the impact and turned with the motion, but his grip was like iron.

_NO! NO! NO!_

I screamed with anger and fear, trying to get myself free, but he had packed me by the upper arms and held me to his chest with a bruising grip of his hands. I tried to break free, step on his foot with the hard heel of my boots, but he evaded me with ease. When I managed to get a knee dangerously close to his groin, he began to lose his patience.

"Let go! NO! Leave me!" I screamed like a mad-woman, not caring who heard me.

All my efforts were useless though. He still had me by the arms, crushed to his chest sideways to accommodate the backpack. He was so much stronger than I was. I contemplated using my nails or even teeth to get him release me when his voice thundered over my own frantic screaming.

"No dhínen! (Be silent!)," he commanded in a rough voice. The language he used was Sindarin since he was one of the Rangers who still learned it as children and knew its power. Rangers in Ithilien and Anórien more or less preserved it as tradition, nothing more, but the Dúnedain, who dealt with Elves frequently, spoke it fluently. It was just my luck I was grabbed by the one who was connected to the Dúnedain.

I had no idea I was spoken to by another language, it sounded foreign to me. Because Westron had borrowed so many words from Elvish tongues when Numenoreans landed on these shores, it sounded similar enough to an untrained ear. But that did not help me any, so he tried to make me obey with sharp words and shook me like a ragged doll when I did not comply. I really did not understand what he wanted from me and I was scared out of my mind by the way he overpowered me.

"Daro i! (Stop that!)," he hissed as I still fought him. He twisted my left arm and I finally got the memo that it was better to submit.

His right hand reached for my chin and grabbed it with a firm grip, while his left crushed my hands against my ribs in the process, keeping them secured by my wrists. That he could hold them with one hand only made the size difference between us painfully obvious. I've never felt smaller in my life! I was in a very vulnerable position here.

He firmly moved my chin upwards, and I knew he could easily break my neck if he so desired - it would only take him a moment, and it wouldn't be as messy as a slitting my throat. Before I could panic again, the tall warrior adjusted his grip on my throat and dragged me into the cover of the trees, leading my shaking form further into the woods. He was whispering harshly into my ear the entire time and I shuddered in fear when his breath brushed against my cheek. I was still terrified by the icy stare he had shot at me. His harsh whispers turned smoother once we were at a large tree.

"Man sâd telil? (Where are you from?)" First words that were not coloured by anger or urgency – I still did not know what he was asking me. "Heniach nin? (Do you understand me?)" He sighed when I did not reply, looking in the direction of the clearing nervously. The fight was still raging, the cries having lost none of their strength.

His grip eased when I didn't struggle, but not too much - I was still held firmly against his strong frame. I could feel his elevated heartbeat with the arm trapped between his chest and my side. It seemed he was no more in control than I was. But how could he have been – the terrible noise of the battle was still loud and clear in our ears. For some unfathomable reason that reassured me – the knowledge that we were sharing something, even if it was fear, it was enough to lessen my trebling. Perhaps he would be tempted to join his friends – let me free for the time being. I was sure he would find me again some other day, if he so desired.

"Please let me go…" I whispered with a shaky voice, imploring him. I could hear tears in my voice even if there were none in my eyes yet. But water floods would hit me soon - the warning tingle in my nose was already present.

It appeared he took pity on me because he released the hold completely. Instead his hand stayed to the scarf wrapped round my throat. He fingered the soft fabric and the brocade pattern - he seemed almost curious about it, but I did not understand why. Perhaps it was the arrangement of coloured stripes running down the length of it – muted red, varying shades of green and light dun. It _was _my favourite scarf and I very much disliked his hands on it, or on my person for that matter. Since I was crushed to his chest, the hand with which he restrained me was resting on my chest, only my own hands separating him from my breasts.

The inspection did not last long; he removed his hand from my scarf, but let it rest on the hand still clutching my bows. I had managed a hit or two with them, much to my satisfaction - now he wanted them. I hesitated, unwilling to give them away. I had planned to use them again when a chance presented itself, but my only option was to hand them over – I could hardly fight him! To my relief he deposited them against the trunk of the tree we were hidden behind.

My nose caught something on his dark brown leather outfit; I had smelled it before, when I had careened into him, but only now realised what it was - horses! I got a whiff of this distinctive aroma only once or twice in my life, so it took me a while, but I now recognized it instantly. _No wonder they got so fast here and were still fresh!_

Maybe not so fresh after all; the battle took a sudden turn - calls of distress from the men rang out, making the soldier tense in distress. We could both hear how several people tore through the forest in response, but I got the feeling that they were horribly outnumbered. I had to get away now - before the fight moved here. Whoever was attacking was gaining ground and I would not be caught between two enemy fractions!

My captor seemed almost psychic with the way he tightened his grip upon my arm when this idea manifested in my mind. I hissed as he dug his thumb deeper into the bruised area on my arm. _My muscles hurt enough on their own, thank-you-very-much_! I began to protest but the unmistakable sound of drawn swords or blades made me shut up before his stare could. That sound had been forever burnt into my memory. There were more men here than I realised! I was doomed! I'd never get away!

My breath hitched in alarm. Then, just to mount my horror, his hands began a slow journey over my body! He might have been simply searching for hidden weapons, but I was not exactly thinking rationally at the time, and recoiled in fear and anger.

"Get your hands OFF!" I screeched and twisted, my knee banging against his leg with full force. Oh, if I could have gotten a hit at his balls!

He turned so swiftly I was disoriented for a few moments. I was firmly packed by the upper arms and held still – a mere puppet in his arms. My gaze jumped to his face; the dark stubble was still there, the curtain of inky black hair too, but the eyes of grey colour were burning with anger. _Oh no..._ His mouth was set in a thin line that just radiated displeasure. He was a middle-aged man – he would not be fooled easily. Creases at his eyes and lines around his mouth and brow betrayed many years of hard life. No, he would do his duty, even during battle...

_Why__? Why are you after me? _Tears gathered in my eyes as I began to beg, "Let me go, please… Please…" My hands, placed against his chest, began to tremble against my will.

His brow furrowed at my words and distress. He did not understand the words, but he got the gist of my plea – who would not want to be free? His hold tightened again as I tried to move away. I began to tug ineffectively to bring him closer to the tree where I could crush his hand against the rough bark, when I saw a dark shadow moving towards us. My eyes widened in horror when the shape was revealed - the most horrible black creature with a disfigured face, limbs and torso, was bound in our direction, carrying a disgusting blade in its hand. It showed a line of rotting teeth as it cried out, alerting the warrior.

"Rhaich! (Curses!)," he hissed under his breath and suddenly pushed me away to step between me and the creature. When I regained my footing I saw three more of them following the first one. I couldn't believe my eyes; the scene was so surreal I would have thought it was a figment of imagination. Yet I was not imagining things - these creatures were real, alive and breathing. The first one laughed with a guttural voice then spoke in the same crude language I heard at the cliffs.

_Holy shit! That is attacking us! What the hell is THAT?_

These beings (they certainly couldn't be people!), reminded me of fictional characters in games - and of the gruesome masks of _The Lord of the Rings_. But surely I was wrong? It wasn't possible that these were real... it was a mask, surely. They must have painted their skin black and the disfiguring injuries were most likely the result of serious battle wounds, their teeth just a product of bad hygiene and nutrition... It couldn't be I was looking at living, breathing beings of such looks... Then their eyes erased all doubts – it was as if they reflected light, like a cat's. And they seemed to squint as if light hurt them. And their clothes! They were dark rags and pelts – barely covering anything of consequence.

_No way are THEY human. NOTHING like this could be human at ALL!_

The tall soldier threw one look at my pale face then grabbed for the sword at his side. He must be mad to fight them, I thought. I was already retreating - my backpack bumped against the bows and I quickly grabbed the familiar wood.

The soldier prepared to fight. "_Orcs in the right forest!"_ he roared to his companions.

I jumped - _ORCS?_ The word was the only one I recognized and wasn't that just brilliant; right out of Tolkien's works... Now, I liked Tolkien and _The_ _Hobbit_, but somehow I got the feeling this was darker, more like _The_ _Lord of the Rings_. The book had been far too long for my taste and I never touched it again, but April was mad about it and the movies, so I learned quite a bit by mere osmosis. She made it sound more interesting and intriguing than I remembered it to be.

It was too scary a thought. _It can't be…_ Yet, in some twisted logic, it made sense – untouched wilderness, majestic mountains, medieval clothing and tall men with grey eyes... _And orcs_, my mind deadpanned. How the hell did one get from a hike in Canada to a fictional place like Middle Earth! Wasn't I in the southern hemisphere at home? But wait - was that stone relief in fact an orc? A warning? Or some dark spell?

_Megan, you don't really believe in magic, do you?_

I had no time to search for an answer or to find reasons against magic's existence – the small group of orcs was too close for comfort. I had to get out of here. _NOW!_

I felt kind of bad for a second for leaving the man behind, but my self-preservation instinct was stronger than my honour. He was not my ally. I was the hunted one here, I could trust no one because no one was on my side. I seriously doubted that would change should I help him. _Can I even help him?_ _No._ Besides, April was quite clear on this – these people distrusted everyone. Middle Earth was a dark place.

It appeared that one part of me already accepted the truth even when the rest mulishly denied it._ What year did I actually land in? _

The battle cry the warrior released had me running in the opposite direction. I had to get as far away as possible before night fell - the chances of Men winning this battle were small. It wouldn't be prudent to rely on it, I told myself.

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**A/N: Reviews, comments and other thoughts are welcome! ****I love to hear from you. ;)**


	8. A Brush with Death

**A/N: H****ope you enjoy the chapter even when I have a feeling it could have been better, but I'll leave that to you, my readers, to decide. Enjoy!**

**Edited – 7.9.2008**

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Chapter Seven: A Brush with Death

**or: How to survive the unthinkable**

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The Ranger knew I had chosen to flee when he charged forth; however, he had no time to be bothered about it. That there might have been some other reason for his behaviour did not occur to me. It certainly should have, yet complicated strategies were not really my forte right then. I dealt only with things I saw or knew, not with what ifs. Orcs were coming from direction A, Rangers from B, so I had to go in the direction C. End of the story.

Life does not function like that, unfortunately, as I soon found out.

When I turned toward the forest I noticed he had left his bow and quiver behind by the trees he had dragged me to. They would only inconvenience him during sword fight he was to engage in, I presumed. It was just fine with me. He could hopefully keep them off my track for some time, if not defeat them. I cringed at the thought of him perishing at their hands. Even though he behaved as an enemy, he did not deserve to die. If it were up to me, no life would have been lost on that day.

I sent a silent prayer to the skies, asking for the men's and mine safety. We all would need every bit of luck and protection to get out of this sticky situation. I hoped it was not me who brought them into this trap; I could not forgive myself if I did.

As the Ranger ran to cut the orcs off, my feet have already brought me deeper into the unknown part of the forest. The question now was where to go. I would have turned to the path I came from, but the heat of the battle was located there. No _way_ was I going near that spot! I ran, my heavy steps sounding like thunder to my ears, wildly clashing with the rapid, but steady beat of my heart. I was making a lot of noise - rushing through under bush like that. It did not matter though – the fighting turned louder when swords were drawn.

My lungs burned once again, the throat felt on fire with the cold air and harsh breaths. The trees rushed past me, the branches of the bushes whipping against my legs and arms with a stinging quality. I felt a stitch in my side soon enough – I could not go on like this for long after the tiring day I had. I grabbed one strap of my backpack and tightened the grip I had on the bothersome bows in an attempt to move faster.

_Please, just a while longer…_

But my steps became slower, my breathing harsher and out of sync. The thuds of the backpack against my ribcage were bothering me, the additional weight once again a burden I did not need. When running was not an option anymore, I walked really fast; driven on by the sounds of battle that still echoed from the cliffs. How long were they actually fighting then? It was not ten minutes since that cursed arrow had hit my interrogator; it couldn't have been as everything happened so fast. But it felt like it happened a lifetime ago.

I thought I heard sounds of distress and pain from the Orcs behind my back. It seemed the man knew how to deal with them, but I was worried nonetheless. _Where did they come from so suddenly_? Had they waited for the rangers and I to stumble into their fight by chance, or was there something more sinister behind it, I wondered. Frankly told, I still could not really believe what I had seen.

"I'm in Middle Earth…" I whispered to myself shocked as I moved away few branches of a large hazelnut that blocked my way. It was no use denying the truth. I believe I must have been in a daze for some time after my first meeting with the evil of Middle Earth and only now really understood the severity of my situation. The scene when the Orcs were revealed was like a surreal dream that appears so logical and real while you're asleep, yet is noting but a figment of imagination. Unfortunately, this strange world _was_ a reality, an actual existing world. My future was suddenly something I could barely imagine, let alone plan.

I couldn't imagine wishing to have my own shadow in this land! War, evil dark lords and malicious creatures… you name it. This was no place for a girl like me – with no knowledge about fighting despite six months of kyudo training, no horsemanship skill whatsoever, limited knowledge about medicine and survival in the wild… And then there was the business with Black riders and corrupt rings, wizards and so on. _Megan, you really do know how to get from bad to worse… Congratulations._

I was doomed and I was also aware of it. Ignorance is bliss, it is said. I definitely believed it now._ But where in Middle Earth am I_... _Wherever I am, Arda appears better in a movie or in a book. This… this is a nightmare._

I could grumble and whine about the injustice in my mind, but had to keep my mouth shut. Just as I had done on the day when I fist stumbled across the men, I had to hold out and hope for the best. _Try to do everything possible to survive and get back home_. This thought, this mantra was the only thing keeping me up or I'd have crumbled to the ground and waited for the soldiers to collect me long ago. It would have been the easier route, but I did not desire placing my fate into their hands. Not as long as I was unable to communicate with them on friendly terms. They terrified me.

My feet stumbled over a root when I got lost in my thoughts. The terrain was treacherous and I was moving downhill too. The need to escape was strong and the murder I witnessed too fresh in my mind to dally. I could still see the ruby blood that flowed down his neck when I closed my eyes, the roll of his eyes and the spasm of his body as he fell down like a boneless puppet with the most horrible gurgling sounds I ever had the misfortune to hear.

I felt a twinge in my stomach. I thought I was going to be sick by the memory and shock, but it seemed my body decided that running away was a preferable action this time. Yet, there was no question whether I would have a nightmare about this day or not. I knew I would wake up covered in sweat; perhaps even with a scream of terror.

I did not come far (perhaps I had escaped my captor three minutes ago at most), when the sound of battle appeared much closer to my location. A hoarse scream cut to my bones and I shuddered when my mind replayed the sounds I heard from the dying men Rangers had cut down. All pointed out the fighting had moved from its previous location to the forest ground. This did not bode well. What I knew and imagined about the Orcs told me they always came in large groups, too cowardly to engage in a fight alone. Were there more of them hidden in the maze of trees?

My eyes looked around nervously but so far there were no dark creatures coming towards me. I was concerned about their bows though. I had barely escaped the first time. There was no sound of fighting from the location of the soldier who had managed to capture me and this made my stomach churn in worry. Was he hunting me again, or did he join the other men? I couldn't tell because of the noise that reverberated from the rocks and the trees into a cacophony of screams, taunts and commands.

_Please… I'll do anything, just let me escape whoever and whatever hunts me here__,_ I said in my mind, starting to pray I would get from the forest alive.

I moved forward over the slippery ground, past the bushes and tall trees, until I had to choose between two directions. A cluster of young trees stood at the centre of my direction while two muddy paths curved around it. There were unmistakable hooves prints in the soft ground; a lot of them. I quickly determined where they led to, mindful of staying as hidden as possible and leaving as few prints for someone to find - they came from the direction of the stream and moved towards the location the men had come from when they had cornered me. The sound of water was heard on my left, in all possibility forming an obstacle in my way, but perhaps also leading to safety... The prints of horses worried me although…

_Which way? Which way!_

A battle cry of the Orcs and the loud clang of steel against steel, sounds of the dying and wounded propelled me in the direction of the stream. White-faced and trembling I rushed away from the battle. The little white flowers that littered the floor on both sides of the path escaped my notice, even the first signs of catkin on the limb branches that would usually have made me stop for a short while were ignored in the rush.

Suddenly a thunder of hooves was heard further up the hill, a short distance away. One moment I was looking in its direction, the other I was already down from the path. I had jumped to my right, trying to get out of sight before the rider would spot me. The terrain here was not really suitable for hiding, but I managed to get behind a cluster of younger trees fast enough. I cut my palm on a sharp stone when my footing got a bit unstable in the sharp turn I had made in all haste.

_Holy shit! _I cursed at the pain while I quickly hid from sight. I was getting annoyed – quite an irrational emotion in the situation. _Can't anything cooperate with my plans today?_

The cut hurt quite badly since I had scraped quite a bit of skin off - a sharp sting was already present before the dull ache manifested. I just kept my palm open and waited for the danger to pass before I'd look at the injury. I sweated now like mad after the run, the wet skin on my face cooling rapidly, leaving behind an unpleasant sensation. My skin itched from the dried sweat and salt it left behind and I knew I smelt pretty ripe by now.

_It will be a miracle if you manage to escape the orcs – they _smell_ man flesh. _The thought made me freeze in my spot. How would I be able to evade them in the dark, which was their element? I did not wish to even think about it - wanted to push the problem out of the way and pretend everything was going to be alright - but I could not.

Then the sound of hooves got closer. It was only one horse, if my hearing was not faulty, but I couldn't put trust into my overwhelmed senses. I completely forgot that I had left a rather easy trail in the mud, and if the ranger riding the horse was any good, he'd spot the tracks. In a moment or two the horse was seen. A brown tall and fit stallion sped past my hiding place, a green clad rider urging it on. He was one of the Rangers and the speedy riding on the narrow path could only mean one thing – more warriors were being called. I knew enough of Rangers and their code of honour to know he would not run away to save his life. They were no cowards.

I sighed to myself about the case of bad luck I had. How was I supposed to get away when more men were to come to the forest? It seemed no matter what, I'd be caught in the eternal battle between the forces of light and dark. I wanted no part in it. I was no warrior, not even a very good athlete when not driven on by adrenaline and the iron will to survive. I could not fight. I did not know how even if I had wanted to.

_Am I doomed to be just another casualty of the war here? Another body to be buried in the blood-soaked ground?_I shuddered and turned my gaze to the road again.

He had successfully disappeared from my sight, but I knew that I had to do something to better my chances of escape right away. The backpack was the first thing that came to my mind; it was way too heavy. And I also needed both of my hands to speed up my movements through the forest – the bows inconvenienced me when stealth and speed were important.

I knelt down, ignoring the trickle of blood on my left hand, and took down the backpack. I could care less for blood stains at that time. I was quite shocked when a broken piece of an arrow was found stuck in the place that would have been directly in the location of my heart. My face drained of colour, but I removed it with no hesitation at all and continued with my preparation. I untied the pack with wood that had swung in all directions since the cord got loosened in the struggle I had with the Ranger. I was lucky my arrows were still bound together and fastened to the quiver, or I would have lost them by now with all the falling and stumbling I was doing. I only had to think of something to do with my bows. If I left behind the kindling, the bows could go on the backpack… this had not been an option before and I did not like it now either. They tended to get stuck everywhere, but I had to compromise somewhere.

In the end they got on the backpack and the plastic bag with the kindling was left behind. Thoughts about littering did not appear in my mind – who cares when your life is in danger? It sure did give the rangers a puzzle to solve when they found it though.

My backpack back on, I rushed toward the sound of the stream. I had an idea that came to me while I was tightening the cords. I followed the sound for two reasons: one - the backup the rider went for would in all possibility stick to the road and two - the rushing water could muffle the sounds of my movement through the bushes.

I was constantly on the lookout for any surprises in the terrain which was littered with unexpected holes and rocks, making a speedy progress quite troublesome. I tried to pay attention to the sounds of reinforces as quite a lot of precious time was lost while I struggled with my load, and I imagined they might arrive any time. Haste was critical while the sounds of battle were still heard. The fighting moved closer and I had the dumb feeling the men were retreating towards help and thus towards me.

Anew the sound of hooves was heard, this time produced by several horses. I halted and hid behind a bush to wait until they had gone away. I was not sure they could see me, hidden as I was, but since I had no idea where the road was located, I could not judge how close they would come to my hiding place. When I placed my hand on the ground, I could feel very slight tremors of their heavy hooves. It was then that I noticed the rustling of leaves lower in the forest and saw a pair of boots appear to my right.

_What the …!_

Through the branches I could see the feet of one soldier that walked past me. I froze in my place, unsure if the ones following him saw me, saw my movement just a moment ago. I was crouching, but if that was enough to remain undetected was yet to be seen. Were the bows low enough? Was their haste to help friends blinding them to miss my presence? I could not answer such questions. However, the soldiers had obviously cut short their way and ran in a straight line to help their friends – just as I did to get away… How stupid of me to not anticipate this!

I only managed to get a glimpse of them. The men were moving rapidly uphill, clad in different colours than the ones I had seen before. These were dressed in black – from head to toe as far as I could determine. A glint of metal was what caught my gaze and I realised with fear that they were advancing towards the fight with their weapons already drawn. _Holy crap! Don't mess it up now!_

I jerked when a boot appeared not five steps away from me like it had manifested from thin air.

Unexpectedly, a shout rang out and several men were all of a sudden running in my direction. Perhaps it was the prints I had left behind or the colour of my clothing that alerted them to my presence, I know not. But I was sure I had revealed myself to the one closest to my hiding place by that small movement. I was barely able to get on my feet and behind the trees when he was right behind my back. I was running away with all the speed I could muster with my tired legs. Whoever was following me must have had a sword or knife in his hand like all others, but I did not dare look at him to determine the truthfulness of that presumption.

His steps were almost parallel to mine in no time, and it was only a matter of leg strength and speed when he would have caught me for I knew he would. I almost awaited the feel of his heavy arm on my shoulder when he would yank me backwards.

_I will not be their prisoner twice in a day!_ I screamed inside my mind.

It was only one, from the group counting at least thirty, who followed me though. I was just a minor problem, I presume, after that nest of Orcs had been revealed. The majority of the forces I had seen continued in their previous direction. The soldiers of Gondor did not really concern themselves with women and spies; that was the domain of the Rangers who alerted them. The messenger bearing news of my appearance in the woods had been sent out to the men stationed at the Beacons and the small regiments patrolling the land. These three groups had joined forces here in an attempt to flush out my possible accomplices – a quite fortunate turn for me and Gondor when the Orcs revealed themselves. But I could not be made responsible for the annihilation of a group of Orcs that would have surely wreaked havoc on the land in later spring. No, the scheduled patrols of this area would have revealed them in two days. That was the whole extend of change my presence here wrought. But what a change it made for my fate!

However fast I tried to run, I was loosing my advantage; my legs did not obey me and my small frame could never be a match to the tall soldiers of Anórien. Only the terrain gave me some of the much needed advantage and the turns I made among the trees somehow kept him from getting a hold on me. I felt his hands on the backpack several times though, before I had made a sharp turn around a tree or a rock. It made me push out my last atoms of strength.

Tears seemed to gather in the corners of my eyes as the hopelessness of my situation. Lack of further ideas ate at my strength. _Nothing I try to do to avoid such situations is ever right!_

I reached with my injured hand for hold to get up a small incline after I managed to get a few steps before my persecutor and managed to aggravate the cut. I hissed when the sting reminded me of the injury. It hurt and there was a dull sensation in the area of the opened skin. A scab was already forming, but now I managed to rip it off in a mix of haste and rough bark.

_Damn it!_

I scrambled up the incline, arriving at the small portion of even ground at the stream. It was flowing in a canyon; just as I had predicted. The walls were quite steep and high – a fall down there would possibly result in serious injuries if not death. It was definitely a route that screamed 'danger'. There were all kinds of bushes and young trees growing at the edges and the evened ground. It was an area that got a lot of sun in the summer when other foliage threw shadows on the ground. This was a problem; a big one. There were all kinds of obstacles and I cursed my mind for suggesting the route in first place. It was quite possibly the end of my little escape.

_It would have been a good idea if they haven't spotted you…_ I tried to console myself at the disheartening sight.

I turned around and there he stood.

Dressed in garments of black, he was different from the men I saw before; smaller perhaps, his presence less frightening. It might have been I was getting used to their powerful and threatening appearance, but maybe I decided not to care. I was tired and out of my mind already… maybe my sudden bout of courage was the first sign of madness and hopelessness I was sinking into. I had enough of all this. _Can't they leave me alone_, I asked myself.

I do not know why, but whenever they had cornered me, they waited before laying a hand upon my person. It drove me nuts – the suspension was killing me. Was this hesitance a reaction on the fact I was a woman? Or was something more behind it? I thought he would have lunged after me when I stopped, but he stood there and waited. Was he checking for weapons or what? Couldn't he see I was barely standing upright from fatigue?

Whatever made him hesitate; I was not prepared to get caught so easily and used this to my advantage. I was prepared to fight back. My pride would not let me act otherwise, even if my body told me it could not go on like this.

The canyon, filled with icy water that foamed and boomed as it crashed against the rocky walls, was behind my back and I felt a shiver run up my spine at the sensation. I hated standing with my back towards any precipice or place of considerate height. It was one of the reasons I never leaned on balcony railings. It unnerved me and the soldier slowly creeping towards me made my alarm bells ring loudly. I moved away from the edge of the canyon slowly, every step a mirror of his. He came closer to me with his longer legs though and I froze once again when my backpack brushed against a tree. Suddenly, leaves rustled somewhere to our left. His hand was on the sword immediately. I believe the sounds of battle made him weary of strange noises. But to me it was clear that whoever came from the bushes was my enemy. I had no friends here. He turned his face towards the origin of the sound. In doing this he revealed what his face had betrayed before - he was still a young man, barely in his twenties. He should have known this was the perfect opportunity to grab me and mine to escape. So, I turned when his attention was elsewhere and darted away.

"_Stop!"_ he shouted after me, but it was too late. Immediately, another voice joined him, but everything was muffled by the sound of rushing water, trampled leaves, broken twigs and moving branches as I ran among the shrubbery along the canyon. Where the icy mountain water slowed down slightly, the most amazing green colours were revealed when I managed to take a quick peek. It reminded me of the places I had visited in the Alps, but not much time was left for me to ponder about it – there was something in the water which I would never have seen in the Alps. The reinforcements must have caught up with the rest of their comrades, for a body of an Orc floated downstream, his body pierced with several arrows. This worried me - they had managed to move quite a distance from the cliffs.

No matter, I had other problems – two men were behind me and I was getting clumsy when my muscles began to burn and ache. I couldn't run, couldn't move anymore… I slowed down, wheezing and gulping air. Sweat poured off me, my back felt slick and itchy. If I'd have taken off my coat there would have been large wet patches in the area of my armpits and breasts. The scarf that protected me from the cold air felt too tight around my neck. I stumbled again and grasped for hold at one of the boulders beside the canyon edge. Here the walls had lowered and the water slowed down, but still remained rushing pretty fast in my estimation. The black body of that Orc had disappeared long ago, but my gaze was drawn to the water nonetheless. Therefore I saw a body of a young man float face down in the crystal clear water, leaving behind a reddish trail from his injuries. I was terrified but couldn't move forward again. In this position, leaning against the boulder like it would save my life, panting and trembling from exhaustion, the men found me.

I lifted my gaze. A trickle of sweat slowly moving down my brow got caught in my eyebrows and I reached up with a shaking hand to wipe it away. I recognized the second man – it was the Ranger who had caught me before. His clothing was splattered with blood and I saw he made a makeshift bandage around his left bicep. Otherwise he seemed none worse for the wear, if a bit out of breath. He looked at me with some unexplainable emotion in his eyes. It was as if he could not make out what I was, or what to think of me and my foolish attempts at escape. Perhaps it was a small spark of pride that something so small and fragile managed to get so far. I did not really care; I was just relieved there was no anger and hate in them anymore like there had been before.

I wiped my hand on my coat – something I became less reluctant to do with every day spent in this land, and left behind a reddish smudge. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the sign of blood and he stepped closer.

"NO!" I said and moved backwards, dislodging a few stones on the ground that rolled down the short slope before falling into the water. My backpack brushed against the stone and I moved away lest I damaged the bows. I was now behind the boulder, protected by the stone to some degree.

"No?" he echoed, testing the word.

The first attempt to understand my language gave me some hope that I could perhaps make them realise I was no threat, but I was not stupid enough to get closer when all he did was repeat one exclamation after me.

"Stay there," I told him and gestured with my hand to make him understand I wanted him as far away from my person as possible. I did not forget the way he had grabbed me and later on searched for weapons. His touch had made my stomach roll then and I felt a shiver of fear just at the thought of going through that again. No doubt a good soldier would take away all kinds of weapons and I really did not want his hands or _any_ hands on my person. I was still bruised from his manhandling.

"Don't come closer…" I continued, fear that was rekindled at the memory loosening my tongue. "I just want to go home… please. Just let me go home… I don't want anything to do with this war, with the fighting. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wish I never set foot in this land, so please... please, just leave me alone…"

He watched as I got more upset with every sentence, listening to my words as if they were some exotic and rare music. The other soldier looked as if I were an alien, apprehension growing in him. No doubt he thought I was one of the Easterlings or other peoples under Sauron's rule. It would not have been impossible and my language _was_ different.

"I am no warrior, can't you see? I'm no threat; just a student who got lost," I continued, pleading, "I'm just a fucking Arts Major and Japanese language Minor student…" I rambled on, "Please… I just want to get back home…"

Tears were running down my face at the end while my voice was getting hoarser with each word spoken. I must have been really a pathetic bundle of nerves and female frailty to them. But my world was crumbling before my eyes and the realisation of being stranded in such a violent world filled me with unexplainable levels of desperation. I was all alone here, in a place where nobody understood my language and where people were killed just for being suspicious.

The clang of steel and the loud calls and battle cries were moving in our direction. More Orc bodies appeared in the water and the men seemed satisfied with the sight when they managed to take their eyes away from me. I was just disgusted and scared.

"Avo 'osto (don't be afraid)," the Ranger said with a gentle voice, using Sindarin once again. He tried some other sentences in Westron, but no comprehension was seen in my eyes. He sighed and switched back to the soothing sounds of the Elvish language, knowing that its sound comforted both beast and Men. Yet when he came closer, I backed up still. He could very well promise me the world and I would still not trust him. I could not. And the fighting that was heard moving towards us was not comforting me in the least. How many men were there? How many Orcs?

I moved backwards, not caring that I was dangerously close to the edge now. He stopped his advancing again and huffed under his breath. I believe he was sure I would rather jump into the freezing water than fall into his hands. I was not _that_ stupid, but let him believe I was if it would get me safely out of the sticky situation. In truth I had already prepared myself for capture. It was the only way this day could possibly end, I thought.

He turned towards the other soldier to say something to him, when another man appeared from the bushes with a loud call. He startled me so badly I moved backwards even when I knew I was too close to the edge already. It was an instinctual move that had saved my life before, but now it turned out to be a mistake.

I felt the ground crumble beneath my foot and the realisation of what was to come made my heart skip a beat. Everything slowed down in that moment. I felt my foot loosing ground when the rocks moved under my weight. I could hear the crumbling of the ground, the small trickle of loosened earth and stones falling into the water below... and feel myself lean backwards dangerously. I was caught unprepared and my left foot could not hold me up even when I tried to grab for hold at the boulder and move all my weight to the other foot. I was tipping backwards even when I had reached the cold stone, scraping my nails on the hard surface, but any attempt to tip my balance forward was in vain. It was my heavy backpack that sealed my fate and I was dragged down into the canyon by the force of gravity before I could fully know what had happened.

A scream was ripped from my throat when my fingers lost hold on the stone, breaking a nail or two in the process. The men jerked around with astonishing speed, just soon enough to see me disappear behind the rocky wall and into the canyon.

I was suspended for a short time in the cold air before I hit the water where the stream formed a deep greenish pool. Mind-numbing coldness enveloped me; freezing water, that robbed me of my breath and made my heart skip a few beats in shock, muffled the loud splash that followed. I could not move my limbs for a moment when my lungs emptied of precious air. It hurt like hell; shocks of tiny needles covered my skin and I could not think of anything but the pain. It was colder than anything I had ever felt before, even more than the icy water of the Alpine rivers I had waded in barefoot for a few moments.

The sound of rushing water filled my ears, the thunder where it crashed against rocks muffling the frantic calls of the Ranger above. I knew nothing of them – all I was aware of was the cold, the rushing water and my lack of air. After a second or two my mind pushed forth a frantic command and I flailed my arms to rush to the surface.

_AH! FUCK! IT'S BLOODY FUCKING FREEZING!_

I gulped air in a loud and horrifying sounding gasp of pain. The stream had already pushed me to the middle of the canyon under the water and now carried me rapidly downstream. _JESUS!_ I surfaced again just in time to take a gulp of air before the heavy backpack tried to drag me under one more time. I was at already several yards from the place I had fallen in, but I still heard a call from somewhere over the rushing stream.

I fought to stay above the water level while trying to avoid the rocks that appeared suddenly on my right. I was so cold I could barely move my feet in shock and only just feel my fingers. I pedalled with all the might I could find, but the water was stronger than me when I was barely keeping myself floating. All my efforts to avoid the rocks were for naught and I crashed with my right side against them.

_SHITE! _

Pain blossomed in my arm, a large bruise forming despite my manoeuvre which had pushed my backpack towards the hard rock. But a horrible stinging sensation that ran up my calf where it had hit against the wider submerged part of the rock worried me the most when I tried to swim again. In the corner of my eye I could see a pinkish hue in the water...

_Christ! N__O! I don't want to die!_

My hands felt like lead and I could use them only to get to the air. The burning sensation of my leg and the pain shooting up when I used it to keep above water was a fresh reminder of the dire circumstance. I _had_ to get out of the cold water soon! The cold was already affecting me and I could die the next time I would hit the sharp rocks.

My teeth began to chatter and I felt how my strength was waning rapidly, my legs cooperating less and less with the commands. I could not reach my straps to get my backpack down in a desperate attempt to loose weight dragging me down…Then I saw a large tree trunk across the water and I focused all of my being on that saving line. The spruce tree was all I could see, all I could think about. It was my whole universe in that moment of need. I swam as well as I could towards the edge of the stream in the hope I would be able to get a hold of the trunk. I _had_ to get a hold of it!

The water roared against the walls of the canyon, the colours of the moss and water meshed together into a blur, and all I registered among the rocks was that brown saving line. The waves pushed me left and right like a piece of cork. Still, the effort I put into swimming paid off and I was floating nearer to the edge of the stream where the trunk was the closest to the water level.

_Only a few __moments… Just a few moments..._

I reached up with my hands, letting myself get submerged for a second, and grabbed at the hard wood with all my strength. I was jerked hard and almost lost my hold, but then I pulled myself upwards in a Herculean act, while screaming like mad from the pain and fear. Bark bit deep into my skin, but in the end I was leaning against the saving tree, the waves keeping me snuggled up against the trunk. Water foamed at my feet and torso where I was still submerged and I shook form the cold. The tremors intensified when air brushed against my wet clothes and my teeth couldn't stop chattering loudly. My hands bled from the cuts I sustained when I had crushed against the trunk, but I held on for my life. Slowly, I tried to get myself out of the freezing water before I would die of hypothermia. A cough ripped through my body and I could feel the water I had gulped down during my 'dip' in the stream irritate my throat and lungs.

_Shit, Megan. __Get the hell out of here! _

Somehow I found hold for my left foot and managed to get onto the trunk and out of the water. I just lay there for a while, catching my breath and trying to calm down the rush of my poor heart. It was too much. I was hugging the blessed tree with all my strength, too afraid of the water to let go, while the cold air further chilled me. I had never been so cold in my life.

"Help…" I cried hoarsely before another cough silenced me. Where were they when I needed them? I wouldn't have minded a ranger or two to get me out of the canyon and near a warm fire. Fire; yes… that was the right thought. I had to get to a fire.

I could feel my eyes closing, exhaustion shutting down my body bit by bit. My injuries dulled and moved to the background; the stinging of my calf the only thing beside the goose bumps and cramps that registered in my mind. Through the fog that seemed to permeate my brains I remembered that I wanted to get somewhere warm.

"Get moving, Meg. Get moving…" I murmured and shook my head to get rid of the black spots dancing before my eyes.

The cold cleared my mind again; made me react with right action. This was no time for dallying. I grabbed hold of the bark and dragged myself up. I was only instinct now, little thought. The shock that my body experienced on top of everything else was taking its toll, but I still slowly and carefully moved up the tall tree. My knees hurt where I clenched them close to the trunk. My palms bled and pieces of bark dug into my soft skin. I could see my bluish and pinkish fingers, the veins standing out with painful clarity against the background of white. I did not remember being that cold in my life or seeing my hands this blue. In the end the strain on my skin was too hard and I carefully bound the soaked scarf around my palms to protect them, but it still hurt to hold myself up.

I was almost at the top, where the tree had fallen into the canyon. The ground had crumbled where the trunk fell against it and I could not trust it would hold me up were I to step a foot on it – it had betrayed me before most spectacularly and another high fall down was not something I wanted to experience a second time. It was also a problem climbing at that steep angle when I had little strength left. The scarf came handy here once again – I managed to move it around the trunk and take hold of the ends to move up. My poor knees hurt like hell, but somehow I managed to get to the top where I crumbled to the forest floor in a shaking heap. I was done for. _No more climbing, swimming or running for me… just sleep, sleep. _Before I could remember that nobody in danger of hypothermia should fall asleep and tried to remain awake, I was already unconscious.

I did not see shadowy figures appear from the forest where they had watched my efforts and struggle, nor felt when they took down the backpack that I did not leave in the stream and moved me deeper into the woods. I was in a land of no thoughts the entire time the journey, that brought me to the remains of a house along one of the forgotten roads in the White Mountains, lasted. They stripped down the soaked clothing until I was left in my underwear and undershirt. Then they took care of the injury on my calf and covered me in cloaks of grass and fur. I was warmed by the fire they made while they stretched out wet clothing, one of them rubbing my cold skin to help get my circulation back in order.

When I began to wake, once my body was getting warmer, I registered through the haze one gnarled hand that reached for the pendant around my neck. It gently touched the carved wolf before it placed it back down on my collarbone. The Indian pendant that I had found at the beginning of my journey saved my life and the mysterious people that knew these woods better than people in Gondor kept their poisonous arrows for their true enemies – the Orcs.

The shuffle of retreating feet registered only dimly in my mind. Not soon afterwards I burrowed myself deeper into the covers. I awoke only when the fire began to die down and the lack of warmth set of the chills again. It was the dead of the night and everything was silent.

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A/N: This is it :) I believe everyone of you knows who the mysterious people are and this new appearance could add even more spice to the mix. But that's it with the **extent of appearances for now, too much spice makes the soup (or any other dish) unpalatable. ;)**

**If you are satisfied with**** the way the story is going (and even if you are not) leave a review or a comment, if you like. I enjoy your thoughts very much. :)**


	9. 9 Ties Between Worlds

**A/N: This is a chapter**** announcing a milestone in the story and informing my dear readers of some important facts that I think they need to know to truly enjoy the future chapters. They will alert you of important changes made or yet to be made in the life of our heroine. **

**I hope I've not confused you with the note above. The next chapters will be told form Megan's perspective as you are used to and all similar chapters like this one are far off in the future. ****I believe every seven 'normal' chapters I will switch to a perspective of some other group.**

**Hope you share your thoughts on the sudden change and how useful you thought the content ****was. The normal chapters are numbered and those who are not are only titled. **

**So, chapter eight is already in process. I've been thinking about posting this chapter as a separate story, but after some advice decided to change the original a bit and post it inside 'Alone in Anórien'.**

**Edited – 8.9.2008**

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TIES BETWEEN WORLDS

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The Druedain lived in these regions for as long as their elders could remember. It was their home, their land from the beginning of the world. Other people came and went, not bothering to ask permission when they strayed into Druedain territory, but never stayed. They wandered around for a short while occasionally, exploring or seeking shelter. The majority of men that had set foot in these lands only passed through and disappeared again, never to return. Such occasional visitors were tolerated and sometimes even invisibly helped when they searched for a path that would lead them away from the tall and old trees that grew in the Druedain forest.

But for a long time now, several generations long in fact, the men living at the border were pushing deeper and deeper into the forest; felling trees, hunting game and searching for herbs and eatable plants. A long time ago the Beacons were set on the hills that ran through the middle of the Druedain's previous territory. They were distressed and appalled at such behaviour. They had never set foot on those men's lands, keeping close to their own shrinking territory for as long as they could remember, so they could not understand why those men felt the need to steal their forests.

'Wild Men' these intruders called the Druedain; hunted them like animals and servants of the Dark Lord, when it was them that did wrong and not the Druedain. But then again their ferocity while they protected their borders was something that could give rise to many tales and misconceptions. Why shouldn't have they have fought back and drive the intruders from their forest? They only protected what was theirs; they never lusted after foreign territory.

However, the Druedain guarded something far more precious and dangerous than only their homes.

There was a place deep in the mountains where magic was strong, very strong. It was a gift of the Valar, perhaps even a gift of Eru Illuvatar, the Creator. Nobody knew anymore, if it ever was known. The old legends wise women and men of the Druedain guarded told of the sacred duty the first of their kind were given when they had settled in this part of Middle Earth. No one else knew of it, not even the wise and old elves or the evil and dark powers in the east. They kept watch over that sacred place and its secrets from generation to generation.

When a cloud of thick fog with the soft scent of foreign forests rolled down the mountains into the valleys, then it was time for the magical gate to open again. It was like a shimmering veil that was barely visible in the whiteness of the fog. Rare were the ones who saw it and even more rare where the ones passing through. Yet no one of the Druedain dared to look at the other side of the shimmering veil that separated the two forests. It was the inhabitants of that other place that stepped through to arrive in Middle Earth as long as it was remembered. And no one protested this arrangement. It was one of the things that simply were – like the fact that they all had to die one day and join their ancestors at the feet of Eru Illuvatar. It could not be changed.

The Chosen ones came with gifts, wonderful tales and reports about the nature and people on the other side, sometimes asking for guidance, sometimes giving it. It was a peaceful alliance they formed and the Druedain felt honoured to be their guards and guides. The visitors were healers and leaders, old and wise. Rarely did young people venture through the veil and when they did it was part of their training to become great leaders and healers of their own tribe. They could stay from several months to several years before they returned back home.

Their friendship was strong and the legends and knowledge they shared made them quite similar in many aspects. Many songs and little secrets were exchanged during those visits. Even if their languages were different, many words became common among both people. Even some of their legends and beliefs were coloured by the others. It could be said that they merged on certain levels yet still remained separate people.

Several women came too and even though they were rare visitors, duties binding them to their families, there was no less honour in their arrival. It was perhaps even more celebrated for great courage and devotion was needed for a woman to make this perilous journey. It also made the female population of the Druedain very excited. They learned about the life of their friends directly from them and not through man's mouths and minds.

Sometimes several generations passed before one of the Chosen came through the gate; other times only years separated their appearance. This great variation in arrivals ensured they could never truly fuse together to form one nation or one tribe.

But ever since the Shadow was gaining power and the Men were pushing the Druedain deeper into the forest and away from their territory in the mountains, they could rarely watch over the sacred place. Their own dwindling numbers added to the problem. How many times had they waited for the elusive scent to come with the frequent fog of spring only to be disappointed? But when it finally came and filled their forest with new scents and sounds, it was truly a miracle. It was not really a surprise that the sudden appearance of the legendary fog after so many generations of no visitors caught its protectors unprepared.

It was quite early in the morning that the first traces of the legendary scent were noted on the air. The rolling fog already moved from a location deep in the mountains towards the forests in the valleys. It was neither late, nor early in the spring season when fog was common, so nobody but the Druedain noticed the strange scents they brought with them. The Guards at the Beacons missed the moving shadows that passed their posts and disappeared up the mountains. Until noon, there was not a hand to be seen before their eyes, so thick was the white veil that fell over the awakening forest. But the Druedain knew where to go.

As they received the call, they immediately became afraid for this new visitor, who came after such a long time only to be thrust into the middle of a brewing war. As many men that could be spared went with their leader to help and guide the precious guest to their homes. Never before had they decided upon something like that with their elders. It had not been necessary.

However, Ghân-Buri-Ghân felt deep in his heart that it might have been better if the visitor were sent right back than invited into their homes. Yet, what such a rude gesture would provoke, he had no idea. The old Druedain leader worried during the long hike to the sacred place his father had showed him once he had reached adulthood, his thoughts turning towards the enemies walking the forest. Reports from he scouts had told him several hostile groups were seen wandering around the area at the time. He could avoid them in the fog, but after it was gone he and his men were vulnerable. No amount of skill could save them from arrows sent to their back - a fate of many men of his people in these dark times. He could not forgive himself were something to happen to their peaceful Visitor because his men were not guarding the gate. Time was of essence. He could not let the Visitor fall into their hands!

He hurried forward. Only once had he visited the place, but the path was engraved in his mind. He could remember the painted skins and the symbols representing the path even in his sleep, so it was easy to follow a trail even in the thickest fog he had ever seen. He had been preparing to show the path to his son in a few weeks' time, after all.

The boulders that appeared so ordinary in daylight changed their nature as they emerged from the thick white veil. They spread around the mysterious area when the fog began to disappear under the morning rays. How surprised they were to see strange tracks on the ground near the invisible gate! They were nothing like the ones his ancestors talked about. Deep and strange, made by some unknown kind of shoes... Ghân had no idea what to expect. Was the guest trying to make their search easier once he had decided he could not wait any longer by the gate?

But the footprints were also smaller than the one of a grown man. Was it possible their visitor was a young soldier or a woman? The magic chose the ones worthy of coming through, that much was known. Each one brought something valuable with them whether it was in a form of objects or knowledge. If a woman was sent, then they had to trust Eru that he had chosen well.

They gathered together and began the search. However, the appearance of the Rangers and Soldiers of Gondor in the forest at this important time was problematic and time-consuming. With much skill and knowledge of the land they managed to slither around them easily. It was good to be alert though, those men knew these lands quite well too. The trail of the chosen one was easy to follow before the night forced them to stop the search. However, Ghân's hopes of catching up were dashed once it was revealed their friend was in serious trouble. The dead men they fund and the signs of fighting were alarming. So many footsteps revealed nothing and yet everything. Rangers were moving in large groups and somehow their woman – for it was highly unusual for a younger man to display such lack of skills in tracking – was caught up in the middle of the conflict.

A younger hunter found the distinctive path and they rushed forward to get her from the Ranger's eyes before serious damage could be done to the secrecy of the gate or their alliance. She was obviously a messenger of peace and as such had to be regarded with highest respect. Ghân doubted the Rangers would let her live long enough for her to explain things. Her colouring would be too similar with that of their enemies.

They searched for the chosen one a long time, but the presence of the Rangers and the bad weather caused them a lot of problems. The mad chase went on for days and their respect began to grow. That woman was nothing if not resilient. In the end they found her. At least they though it was her – they only needed a last confirmation before they would meddle in the situation that was escalating quickly. It was a surprise that such a small and scared woman was chosen to go to another land. And her colouring was quite different. Was she the one or was she not?

They were hidden in the cliffs casting shadows on the clearing and other set of cliffs. Orcs were there – Ghân could smell it in the air and his numbered scouts told him that the warning his friend had given him last year, as a small band of orcs slipped past their notice and was not seen again, was justified. A series of caves was located not far from here and it was there, in that hardly accessible location, that these foul beasts settled down during winter only to wreak havoc on the lands in spring. The presence of Gondorians flushed them out of their hiding space though – they could smell men-flesh far away and the shadows were already lengthening. She was in serious danger!

His son told him that the path she wanted to take, before the falling rocks made her weary, would have brought her directly into orcs' arms. Ghân could feel his hairs stand up on end at the thought. But she was in danger still as she stood in the middle of the clearing, cornered by the Rangers that did not know of the danger at their back. Were it not for those men they would have gone and brought her to safety long ago. One day, one entire day, was lost! The Rangers were too close for them to approach now and help her. The lurking orcs were not to be underestimated, either, Ghân knew. They might or might not attack yet, perhaps opting for the cover of the night to fall upon the Rangers. She was caught in a trap and everyone around her was an enemy. The Rangers were suspicious of her, the Orcs killed with no mercy anything that crossed their path, and they were too few to meddle. Who knew what else the magic had called forth in these lands? It was uncanny how all possible groups flocked to this place this early in spring. Was the war closer than everyone believed, he wondered. Or was her presence what had gathered them here?

With sadness and anger the Druedain watched the fight that soon started. Ghân could barely force himself to watch her struggle, her fight for her life. The arrows that barely missed her sent his blood boiling and he saw his son clench his bow in anguish. How she managed to get out of there unscathed was a mystery, but the fight the Rangers put up was distracting orcs enough for her to get to cover. If only she would come to the Canyon – then they might help her, he thought. Alas! As they rushed from their position to get closer, she was already captive in the Ranger's hands. Bravely she fought back.

However, the man was surprisingly gentle with her if one considered she had just brought his friends into a trap. Ghân wondered if the man sensed she was more than what the eye could see.

They had to get her away and fast before the secret could be betrayed. Who knew what consequences such an act would have? He could not pretend he did not worry that orcs might attack her land and people, if by some dark chance the Enemy got wind of the gate. There was a good reason why certain things were meant to be secret. However, it seemed she was lost to them for at least a while, but still alive. He wished he could have sent some of his poisoned arrows at the Orcs that came at her and her captor, but he had to keep back to the shadows. The Ranger was brave, he had to admit that, but he could not protect her. And why in the name of Eru did she have Dunlandings bows and arrows with her?

Before he could puzzle this out and keep an eye on the Orcs she did something quite unexpected – she managed to escape the Rangers. Ghân hoped she would be able to get away from the backup forces his son had reported him about. She was headed in their direction unknowingly. By now he was convinced it was her they were searching for – her strange garments were nothing the tales talked about, but perhaps the many generations of no contact at all changed a lot in her world.

They moved stealthily among the trees on the other side of the canyon, keeping one eye on her progress and the other on stray Orcs they soon dispatched with few well-placed arrows. Unfortunately, they had to stick to the background or the Rangers would attack them too. Not something Ghân had in mind as he set out to greet their visitor. They had far too few arrows and poison to start a war. She was unlucky though and got cornered by two soldiers easily. He did not want to kill those men – they were not his enemy. However, she was his first priority. The Visitor, however, took his decision away once she fell in the canyon. It had happened so fast! In a moment she was in the icy cold water that had made even his weathered skin protest as he filled his water-skin. He could never forget her scream and the frantic rush to help that sent him and his men running after her. He could hear the Ranger roar, trying his beast to keep up with her quickly disappearing form, but he wad impeded by the boulders and thick bushes.

How relieved was Ghân to see her clinging to the trunk of that tree! She was shivering and barely lucid from the cold and the shock and there was a pinkish discolouration on her right calf which worried him. Were there other injuries she had sustained in the canyon?

They could not risk climbing down to her – the trunk might not take the weight of two people. A little way lower was a death-trap full of branches and other debris that had got stuck in the rocks. She would not survive it were she to fall. It was simply too dangerous to risk her life. She had to get up all on her own. Hidden in the bushes they watched her slow ascent, keeping watch on the Rangers and Orcs. Ghân had sent a couple of men prepare the nearby hide-out while the rest was divided into groups that would guard the area. The battle was not over and the Orcs knew how to get around the stream, and the Rangers too would no doubt scout the perimeters were they to win this fight. His people had to remain hidden as long as possible. She would need help and rest.

The small woman managed to get to the top of the trunk and on solid ground where she collapsed in a wet and shivering heap that looked more dead than alive. With relief he noted she wore a pendant around her neck that told him she truly was from behind the veil; the description of the traditional craft were accurate regarding them. The few they had obtained were not as different as the one she wore around her neck. Made of bone and weathered by time… it was a piece that had seen many generations. It might have been the magic that changed the bones. Some of the visitors complained their new pendants changed after they came through the gate.

Hers was quite different, though. Perhaps she was more than what she appeared to be. Fair-skinned with black hair of her people; she must have been an oddity. But it was strange, thought Ghân, that she carried an image of the enemy around her neck. Wolves were never a good sign in Middle Earth and often foretold Orc attacks. Cruel and hungry beings they were, but he knew from the legends that many beings he counted as evil were sacred and honoured animals in that place behind the veil. Crows, eagles, deer, bears and fish were all regarded highly by the Visitors. It was not impossible that wolves were different there too.

With gentle care they took down the heavy pack on her shoulders and removed the first wet garments. They were truly strange and made from very different materials than he was used to. A cloak was wrapped around her and they quickly moved her freezing form to one of the forgotten paths and shelters built beside it. A fire was prepared for her and some bandages. He and the man skilled in healing, Achâk, stripped her of the rest of her clothes. Her skin was tinged slightly blue due to the visible veins. Her skin was really white almost like the skin of the Gondorians or people of Rohan. Her face was not like the one from the tales either.

They left her in garments that covered her most private parts. The wet clothes would be the death of her. Even now a cold was not avoidable. Her injury was not bad, but only painful. A tight bandage and cleansing would do the trick, but the shock to her body would yet reveal its consequences.

As he fingered the pendant, after they had wrapped her up beside the fire, he began to understand her strange symbol – she was one of the silver coloured wolves from the north only tales told about. It fit somehow when he regarded her fight and the strength she displayed during her hunt and accident. A she-wolf she was then; strong, quick and smart. A good choice, it seemed, for the troubling times. The Shadow was already lengthening its hold and evil further into the land. But was she also a messenger of impending darkness?

Ghân could feel the gaze of the Lidless Eye being drawn towards the magical place of her entrance. No doubt more Orcs would come if not other spies. They would have to move her far away from here and quickly. It was too dangerous... And already the Rangers had seen her. How long before the Enemy would learn of her presence here and threaten her land? He could not let someone like her fall into their hands… She was under their protection and he had to forge a plan that would keep her away from danger and the attention of the Enemy. He had a lot to do.

Her unexpected arrival had changed a lot of things already, he could see it. That Ranger was not going to let her go – the man had seen too much had been too close to her. She would bring change, of that he was sure – she herself someone that defied the usual descriptions.

But what_ would_ she bring - peace or war? A wolf protected his pack ferociously, but he was a predator in first place. Was she sent here to help the Druedain or was her role much bigger thus warranting such a strong animal as her guardian? Her people believed in spiritual guardians that took on a shape of an animal. Was a she-wolf her guardian then? Why did the magic send her here after such a long time when no visitor ever came? The last one spoke about troubling times to come and new people invading their territories. Was she a descendant of one of those people? What had happened?

Ghân had many questions and a hard time figuring things out without her answers, so he decided to wait for her to wake up first before worrying too much. Yet, no amount of old legends from the Visitors could rid him of his concern. Wolves had always filled him with dread. He hoped she would turn her teeth against the enemy and not against his people. For now she appeared harmless, however... her fear of the unknown men did not bode well, even though she did not strike back at them with weapons she had in abundance as they had fond out. She appeared too lost, too inexperienced...

He moved from the room before she could wake up. Soothing herbs and tea would have to be prepared to keep away illness. Rangers must not find out where she is or who she is. It was better they thought her to be dead. He had to watch out for that one Ranger though. He was too interested in her – he knew more than the Druedain was comfortable with. No good came from their meddling in the Druadan forest. Weren't the Beacons enough?

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A/N: This is it. Tell me what you think, what you liked and what you disliked. Hope it does

**fulfil its purpose of informing my readers a bit about the background of the story. The next normal chapter will be posted in next days. ;)**


	10. The First Contact

**A/N: A big thank you to all of my readers and especially those who ****leave a comment. Thank you for your kind words and advice. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**** :D**

**Edited – 8.9.2008**

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Chapter Eight: The First Contact

**or: How to be as cool as a cucumber**

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I was still groggy when I woke up so I did not really understand what had happened or where I was all of a sudden. The room where I was lying on a heap of leaves and furs was dark, only slightly illuminated by the glow of embers. There was little smoke, much less than from the fires I had made myself, and there was a wonderful herbal aroma rising from it that appeared quite soothing to me. Shadows danced over the stone walls and I noticed from my position on the floor there had once been a window in the wall but which was now completely blocked by branches of a nearby bush. My eyes were barely opened since my lids felt like lead and kept on closing. Everything was silent and peaceful - so different from the chaos of the evening it almost appeared like a dream.

The cold that seeped into my skin in the area of my neck made me aware of the semi-dry hair that was pooled beside my face. It would take forever to turn warm and dry once again, I reminded myself, but I was too tired to move it away with my hand, so I only burrowed deeper under the covers and left the wet mass outside. _Just when have I taken off the elastic?_ I wondered, but the fog that still clung to my mind did not offer an answer. I knew I had managed to climb up the tree and that I was freezing to death by the time I had collapsed on solid ground, but not much what happened after that. I barely even recalled reaching the top.

Somehow the nightmarish revelation that I had stumbled into Middle Earth (or Arda as April would say) stood out in blazing letters in the forefront of my mind. It was not pushed to the background as I would have desired and fear once again crept into my mind.

_How in the world did that happen?! It's crazy, it's ludicrous, __and it can't be possible! _I thought, trying to erase my memories of the Orcs and the Rangers, but alas! _... It's… it's the truth, _my mind supplied and I sighed in defeat, feeling tears gather in the corners of my eyes. The injuries, the cold and everything else I had experienced and went through so far, were proof enough this ludicrous fact was real – no dream or hallucination. Deep down in my heart I was kind of glad I hadn't realised I was in Middle Earth on the first day –so I had at least a few days to sort my emotions before everything was thrust at me. _If I were to meet the Orcs first_… I shuddered at the idea what could have happened.

Somehow I had miraculously survived the cold, gotten to safety despite everything that had happened, despite the danger... Who had helped me? And where were they? My memory of events that happened after everything had turned black was fuzzy and fragmented at best. I remembered the feel of rough hands holding my arms and legs, the horrible cold that made my bones ache, but not _who_ had helped me. Why was I alone?

_I really have to thank them for saving my life…_ I thought with strong emotions of deepest gratitude. I still felt like crap though - my entire body ached and protested, and finding a comfortable position was quite hard. My arms were bruised where that man had grabbed me and from the impact with the rock in the damned canyon. Someone must have been watching over me for I did not break a rib or two when I had barrelled straight into it. As it was, I had no energy to reach out to the fire to bank it up and warm the air that had cooled significantly. My palms were stinging too and I knew that the cut and the rough bark after the cold water were not a good combination for my sensitive skin. I began to shiver slightly under the covers even though I warmed them pretty well for a person who had almost frozen to death. _If only someone were here to bank up the fire…_

_Were the Rangers the ones who found me__, _I asked myself as I tried to fall asleep again in vain. I never could rest when I felt cold – my muscles ached with vengeance in such circumstances and the nightmarish memories of the battle, of the deaths I had witnessed in such a short time when I had never really seen anybody die in my world, was enough to keep me awake. Lack of bounds or guards was reassuring if they truly were the ones who found me, but somehow I was not entirely convinced it was really them. One particular fragment of a memory filled me with doubt. It featured weathered and tanned hands that were quite unlike the ones of the tall men who had followed me for days, if my gut feeling was right (and I was starting to trust it more than I used to). I've become acquainted with _those _hands … definitely not tanned. _Then who was it?_

Orcs were not on my list of suspects, which was a great relief for my poor nerves, but I've got little else to add. Was it truly a similar group to the one I'd given last rites to? It was possible... But the thought was not as comforting as I wished it was. Right then I would have preferred it to be the Rangers. At least I knew how they'd react and treat me; other people were a complete mystery. I knew very little about Arda, but too much about the circumstances of prisoners in foreign countries in throes of war in my world. I suspected that everyone here would have all the reasons in the world to treat me poorly. I was a stranger, an oddity that did not understand the language, culture and other things about them. How would they know I was not one of the enemies or some other group that wandered across Middle Earth? The animosity people of this world displayed was driving me raging mad – couldn't anybody treat me with kindness and not with suspicion and hate for once?! Why did I always have to be eyed with a dark spark of distrust, with thinly veiled promises of retribution for every misdeed on my part?

I sighed and tried to shut off my mind, but the questions kept on coming. If everyone is so bad, then why the hell had he saved your life,my mind supplied with a sarcastic tone and I had to stop my stupid rant. Where was my gratefulness now? Why did I react to them the same way they had reacted to me?

I felt a headache start at my temples when I closed my eyes with exasperation at my roller-coaster mood. From frightened to mad, from grateful to distrustful in a span of seconds… that must have been a record. The best (and most prudent) decision I could have made in the situation was to lie down and sleep before I'd do something stupid. How in the world had I become a nervous wreck I did not know but one thing was clear though – I was in no condition to be conversing or seeing anyone for the next few hours. And when they came they could have been wise enough to bring some peace offering with them, I thought – something warm and tasty would have been greatly appreciated. Perhaps then I would be inclined to believe them to mean me no harm...

However, my imagination and cold kept me wide awake for several minutes, despite the fatigue. I could observe the play of light across the walls and the floor when my heavy lids opened. There were some things placed on the ground in small heaps, but I could not make out what they were. However, it did not look frightening, so it did not warrant much attention. The room itself was carved into solid rock – there were no bricks or stones visible in the walls. It was a cell, but if it was one for holding prisoners I did not know. However, I was too tired to really contemplate things and frankly did not care one iota at the moment. I was alive… that was that mattered, or at least this was what I had tried to tell myself. One lone nagging voice of reason told me I would think differently in the morning or when the ones who had dragged me from the canyon came, but I was too exhausted to care.

_If only someone would bank up the fire_… My stomach was growling again. How in the world could I even think about food when _everything_ hurt? I moved my legs closer to my body to preserve heat and to hush up my stomach. A sudden sharp sting located at an already sore area on my right calf made me hiss and stop the movement instantly. My body was already a map of aches and bruises and the sudden sharp pain only reminded me of all other injuries I had sustained. Concerned I reached down with my right arm and found a thick bandage wrapped around the protesting area.

_I know I hit that rock pretty hard, but damn, does it have to hurt this bad?_

Then a sudden realisation that I was lying on the bedding clothed in only few thin undergarments made me suck in my breath sharply. How had I missed such an important fact?! I sensed warm fur against the bare skin of my legs and felt oddly exposed, even while under the covers and in my underwear. _Someone_ had undressed me! _Bloody Hell!_

_Of course they did! You were wet and freezing for God's sake; don't freak out now…_ I quickly chided myself. But I felt my cheeks colour despite the logic. I would have stripped a person who had fallen into cold water and put him or her under warm covers too. There was nothing wrong with that, yet I believe I'd never felt as disturbed in my life as right then. I'd been knocked out, barely aware of being alive, thus completely at their mercy and it frightened me. Obviously they had enough time to wrap up my injury and make a fire and I was still out for a long time. If the darkness and stillness of the night was any indicator, I truly had been deep in the land of dreams for several hours since my lucky escape from the cold and wet grave.

_Be grateful! There is nothing wrong and they certainly meant nothing inappropriate with this…_

Despite the logical explanation of my undressed state, I wrapped the covers closer and tighter around my body. I felt helpless and at their mercy since I was too tired and beaten to do anything to fight back should they come. My saviours (or captors) were in charge here and I could not do anything in defence – my futile attempts at doing so before were evidence enough. But I was a very private person and being undressed by some unknown man or men (!) disturbed me - very much so. However, I was still wearing more clothing than when at the beach and this thought did give me a small bit of comfort. What was the real problem here was that I had no say in what had happened to my body. And I was aware I could never win a beauty contest, which only heightened my embarrassment at the situation.

I groaned in closed my eyes. This was not how I had imagined they would see me when they returned. It was humiliating. _Stupid helpless female…_ _Argh!_ I was an independent modern woman and not some cliché damsel in distress!

_Middle Earth sucks… And I've got no clue where I am and who they are. God knows where I've landed. I just pray that I'm as far away from Mordor as possible… but even then there are __Orcs and other foul things everywhere... Please, don't let me be lost in Mirkwood. I hate spiders!_

The 'Hobbit' really made me appreciate the fact that the small eight-legged creatures, that liked to build nets over my window in the summer, would never grow to be that big. However… if I was in the land where spiders grew unnatural sizes, everything was possible. But who knew in what era of Middle Earth history I had landed in? Dimension travel and other fancy things was really not my thing. Who knew it was even possible! And how in the world did Tolkien stumble across it? Wasn't Middle Earth just his fantasy, an idea?

I really wished I knew where I was, but my memory of the maps was sketchy at best. _April would know..._ and with this thought I was once again I hit with a selfish desire to have her beside me. In truth I was glad she was not in danger but safe back home. At least I hoped it was so and that others did not stumble behind me into this world too. Their being safe was one load less on my shoulders. All I knew from the maps was that the mountains I was lost in ran from east towards west. That ruled out the Misty Mountains at least, but still did not lay aside my fear and worry. I would have really liked to see Gandalf appear through that narrow door in the room. It would have made a large stone fall off my chest. But what were the chances?

_Don't hope because you know nothing's ever going to go according to your plan here. Haven't the recent days taught you that much?_

I sighed and found a relatively comfortable position for sleeping. There were at least four or five hours left to sunrise, I estimated. Long enough for me to get a grip on my emotions; sleep would make me forget the dull throbbing of my leg and other bruises and scratches I had collected. Perhaps appearing more vulnerable than I really was might turn out to be a good thing. _It may encourage my captors to treat me kindly_, I thought. Or the exact opposite would happen...one never knew. I shuddered at the idea and firmly decided to stop contemplating things that made me nervous.

_Get some rest while you can… leave the worries for the next day._

Before I could fall asleep two or three minutes later, footsteps were heard at the narrow door. That instantly ripped me from the light slumber I had just fallen into. For a moment or two I had no idea what to do, but my heart started to hammer in my chest. In the next second I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

_Deep breaths, Megan … deep breaths.__.._

The footsteps were light as if the person did not wish to disturb me. They came closer until they stopped at the fire. A shadow fell over me and I almost tensed. I know my breathing changed for a few moments, but the man moved away. For a while everything was silent then I heard him poke with a stick around the embers. He did so for some time and it almost drove me crazy. _Will he stay there? Will he leave? _He added a few logs and branches to the fire, banking it back up and sending wonderful warmth to me. The smell also intensified and I wondered if it came from the wood or from something clinging to the bark of the logs. I wanted to take a peek at the mysterious person, but I didn't really know what would happen once he would realise I was awake. So I decided to pretend for a while longer and wait until he left. But it seemed he would stay with me. _Definitely a guard, _I concluded.

_What now?_

He moved closer to my position and I tensed under the thick covers. I hoped my face did not betray me but it was rather too late to reverse my instinctual action. I was not a great actor and especially not after a bad day. I was too scared to really do anything smart. God knows I had enough of everything and only wanted to be left alone or be sent back home. I doubted I would ever visit Canada in my life after the nightmare I had experienced here. Orcs and Rangers – I've seen enough gory material for bad dreams for a decade or two, I thought.

With a trembling heart and clammy palms I waited for his next action which I couldn't see or sense beforehand. Suddenly a warm hand was placed on my brow. I jumped in surprise and opened my eyes.

The hand moved away momentarily in reflex to my sudden movement before it was placed back to its previous place like nothing had happened. A man was kneeling next to me and in the bright glow of the fire I could see he was dressed in a manner I had not yet encountered. Leather was draped over his shoulder and back, and he wore some sort of dark fabric around his hips that was styled like a skirt or something similar, I was not entirely sure since he was kneeling. It appeared to be made of something looking suspiciously like grass. But what was the thing that surprised me the most was his face. With deep lines, dark skin and being quite flat compared to the profile of the Rangers, he was nothing like the people I had seen in Middle Earth so far. He was also smaller than other men and his body broader. Judging by his face, he appeared to be past middle age.

My eyes had quickly moved from his body to be settled on his eyes. I always observed the eyes of a person when I first met them, and with surprise I noted there was a warm glow in them directed at me. It honestly threw me for a loop. I've been preparing myself for a nasty confrontation and now it seemed my rescuers were quite friendly.

He opened his mouth and revealed a line of stained teeth, but it might have been the fire that gave them that light shade of yellow. He then spoke in some strange language unlike the snippets of the one I heard from the Rangers. Obviously, there would be no real communication between us via words for quite some time, I sighed to myself. His voice was deep but did not appear threatening. It seemed his words were meant to console me – at least this was the impression I got. Obviously he was trying to make the remnants of fear, that must have still been reflected in my eyes, disappear. I did relax slightly but the warning that I was now in Middle Earth did not allow me to cast away all of my worries and fears so easily. But the man seemed satisfied with the level of trust I showed him. He nodded before he removed his hand and stood up again. He did everything very slowly, like he was making sure I could follow his movements. Good thinking on his part – I really was not in the mood or rested enough for quick changes in my surroundings.

The dark man walked to the door and disappeared through it into the dark with one last look in my direction. There must have been others outside. He couldn't have brought me here alone and I knew I felt _hands_ on my legs and arms during the journey. _Who_ was he and who were his people? Were they one of the men that fought against the kingdoms? So far, everything pointed out they were kinder than the people I had met before - this stranger was the first one who showed me a glimpse of the kindness they were capable of giving me in peaceful times. I had to know who he was.

Why didn't I learn more about Tolkien and his works?! I could have done it just for April's sake, damn it! Why oh why did the most foolish and inconsequential things in my life turn out to be so important?

I started to catalogue the people of Middle Earth I had met until now – the Rangers were a constant here; always appearing with dark hair and blue or grey eyes. No problem identifying them. The other darker skinned men were still a mystery but I started to count them among the enemies of the Rangers. Whoever was _their_ enemy was bad, was he not? Weren't Gondorians the good guys here and the other on the side of dark, and something I should avoid at all cost? This logic would have been accurate if I had thought myself to be one of the Gondorians and people of Rohan. But, were the men who had saved my life really the enemy?

_What happened to being fair to all people and not judging them before knowing all facts about their nature and beliefs? Not everything is what it seems and you should better remember that! Ungrateful!_

I cringed at the reminder that I knew better than think in black and white. The world was and would be a painting done in greys. Somewhere, deep down in my heart, I was sure that Ranger was not as hostile as I had made him out to be, but he had frightened me and I was not yet prepared to analyse him and his actions in a reasonable light. It was so easy to hate those who you were afraid off than to see beyond your fears. My emotions were still running high and it would take me several days to detach myself from this emotion I had felt so strongly in the moments of battle and at the mercy of his strong grip.

Rangers were not saints and I should never dismiss the fate of the men I saw slaughtered like animals, I reminded myself. It was too horrifying and against all of my principles. But I had to let go of the fear and instinctual reactions based on the little snippets of knowledge. Men were men no matter of their skin colour and this was my firm belief; I just had to bring it back to the forefront of my mind. It was a sad truth that extreme situations give rise to extreme emotions and reactions – my momentary abandonment of the principles I followed back on Earth was proof enough. I felt ashamed of myself even though an explanation was already on my tongue.

_No. This is no excuse and you know it. You know better that to fall prey to prejudice and fear of unknown. Give them a chance… _I firmly berated myself.

Men here were ruled and moved by same emotions as people in my world – greed, hate, pride, love and fear… Dark forces or not, they were the same. I knew human nature was easily swayed by its lure, but hoped most were able to withstand. The knowledge that magic, dark lords and Orcs were present in this world gave me the chills. This potent mix spelled big trouble and I'd gotten just a small taste of the atrocities they both were capable of committing. Everyone seemed to be trained for combat – something that unsettled me even though I knew few people who had enrolled in the army.

Wars were brewing and raging in my world too but they were mostly just a report about the casualties on the news. What did it mean to me if ten, a hundred, or a thousand died? It's just a number. But the reality and the taste of war and battle changes when you can remember the faces of the fallen; smell the blood and gore in the air, hear the clang of weapons… Only then you truly understand what it means to be afraid, homeless and lost, to be just a number on someone's list. Faceless and full of grief… If I had perished in that meadow, in the canyon… nobody would truly mourn for they did not know me. I was suddenly just one of those refugees on the screen you never truly _see_. Do you remember their faces or do you only wait to hear the latest gossip about your favourite celebrity? One of our greatest human advantages – accommodation – turns to a curse in this instance. When you've seen so many similar reports, you do not care anymore or you had simply numbed with time; after all, what can you truly do for those people beside donate some money for the charity organisations and refugee aid? It's just another bloody war out of many that are waged every day – only the name of the country, of the warring sides, is changed, the reports are the same…

War and danger had never been my reality, but no so anymore. I had no choice in the matter – I was counted among the enemies of Gondor, I could feel it. I could have pretended there wasn't an age long war between light and dark going on, but that would have been a most stupid case of denial. I was in Middle Earth and this war was now my war just because of the simple fact that I was a member of the race of Men. End of story.

It made me angry; it made my blood boil. I had nothing to do with them - it was unfair and cruel to drag me in. Yet, I knew that the situation here was far more complex than portrayed in the movies. It was not only Orcs that were the enemy (and they were the cruellest adversaries of the free peoples of Middle Earth), but also other people from behind the borders of the old kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor. I learned soon enough that far too few ever stopped fighting to think what drove those men to battle against them, to fight with the Enemy. Wouldn't it have been reasonable to presume all mankind would unite in the fight against the Darkness? I knew deep in my heart I'd do anything to help them fight the Orcs, but I had no fighting skills or a stomach for battle.

Yet, it was not so simple was it?

All my thinking pointed out I should better be counted among the friends of the kingdoms and not among the smaller groups that attacked them. But the men who had saved me couldn't possibly belong to the kingdom of Rohan or Gondor… What was I to do? _Whom should I trust?_ In the end the men were all the same – _we_ were all the same…

These new people were a total mystery but at least one of them had treated me with kindness none other showed me until now. That would have to be good enough for some time at least, I decided. I could not pick who I met or who would help me anyway and had to be content with what I got. The brush with death I had experienced only few hours before taught me gratefulness like never before. I was so damn lucky…

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

A loud chirp of a bird, that had decided the branches of the bush blocking the window was a nice resting place, woke me up. The first thing I noticed was that my mouth tasted foul and my eyes were like lead. I recalled the mysterious man had returned with a small bowl filled with a kind of tea or something similar that I drank obediently when he put the rim to my lips. It did not taste as bad as my mouth did now, though, and it had been warm, a fact that my stomach greatly approved of last night. It must have been a drug or something similar for I knew I fell asleep not soon after I had emptied the bowl. I couldn't remember when I had slept as tightly as that night. Was it the tea or exhaustion? Whatever it was, I was glad it kept away dreams and memories of the last days. I had enough of it during the day and wanted my nights to be free of worries.

Right then, however, I would have given my left arm to silence that damned bird. It started a loud symphony that I really couldn't appreciate. My body was sore, my ribs hurt badly and I couldn't really force myself to move a muscle. _I want to sleep_... A cough that suddenly ripped through my chest most painfully had me wheezing for air in no time at all.

_Ah, shit… put me out of my misery now…_

I groaned and turned around so that my right side was not in contact with the ground anymore. My ribs hurt and my throat felt slightly raw – not to mention that my palms itched like mad. The scratches were healing but the discomfort remained. My nose felt full and I knew that the bathing time spent in the freezing water had left me with a nice cold. It was unavoidable, really. All the time spent out in the cold with barely enough cover and food, coupled with a day spent in a downpour and now the dip in icy water…it was too much for my body to handle. The problem was I detested colds – I couldn't stand the sniffling and the bleary eyes that were my constant companions in such time.

There was still a fire burning – obviously the man had banked it back up in the early morning. It must have been pretty late by now. Judging by the light that managed to get inside the small room it was way past sunrise. No wonder I felt rested despite the general state of my health. The room itself was full of shadows since the only light came in from the window; the opening of the door was apparently turned away from the sun, hidden in the shadows of the rocks I could see. There was no doubt left that it was hewn into solid rock. I was rather puzzled by this – I could have bet there were no dwellings in the mountains, as far as my knowledge of Middle Earth was concerned.

Before I could move my eyes around the shadowed room, a sound of steps on gravel made my eyes swivel to the door. The man who had given me the tea appeared again, emerging from the shadows with a relaxed step. Another man followed him close behind and my eyes turned immediately to the new stranger. He was of the same height and width as the first man, but his face had a wispy beard and he appeared slightly older too. I was right – there was a new group of men here in the forest. Even in the shadows it was clear they had nothing in common with the murdered men, besides their slightly darker skin. Their entire appearance was something else entirely. I did not really know what to make of them, but they appeared to me to be members of some kind of a tribe. Their clothing too implied they lived more closely connected with nature than other men I had seen – and I had an eye for materials and their origins.

I was curious what they would do. I hoped they were not like the Rangers and that I would find the same warm glow in their eyes as in the night. The first man held a bundle in his arms, but what was inside, I could not fathom. He was the one to speak first. It might have been a greeting of sorts, but I did not understand a word. He tried again, but that one was unfamiliar too.

"Hello," I said with my slightly raspy voice. I could already hear my voice sound deeper, which clearly told me I had a start of a cold and no mistake.

The men seemed slightly surprised but nonetheless pleased I returned the greeting even if it was in a foreign tongue. The one with the beard nodded to himself as if in confirmation of something I had no idea of, but my attention was soon diverted when the first one gently deposited the bundle he carried beside me on the floor. He removed the lid and I realised they brought me my clothes. What took me even more by surprise was the fact this was one of the shirts from my backpack. Before I could articulate a question he said something to me – a command or a suggestion - and they walked out of the room again. _Was this a hint I should dress myself?_ Obviously it was since they did not come back after few minutes passed.

It was when they had disappeared through the door that I had noticed the things that were placed beside the fire on its other side. My wet backpack was empty and drying beside the wall. No wonder they had to put it there since I was dripping wet last evening too. Things that were wrapped in plastic bags must have stayed mostly dry. Thank god my mother insisted on packing everything in another protective layer. I did not wish to disobey her, so I always did the same and it soon became a habit. I knew she was right about this and it paid off. My clothing must have stayed dry with only few edges slightly wet even though I had been in the water for quite some time.

_P__erhaps they had moved the wet clothes outside once the sun came up?_

I was afraid for my mp3-player. I could not remember where I had stashed it inside the backpack. But my mind was distracted from this question by the sight of bloated paperbacks. I cringed when I saw them, their edges curling in a most ridiculous manner. Hopefully the pages had not dried in a way to make them stick together or the glue inside the back of the book got loosened, I tried to console myself. It would have been kind of hard to carry it around if it had fallen apart. I knew instinctually things that would remind me of home and of the languages of my world would become treasures in the coming days – something to keep me sane in this foreign world.

_Enough__ of this! Get dressed then you'll take a close look at the things and see what can be done. _I gave myself a firm command. Nothing would get done if I stayed under the covers.

With a pained groan I moved into an upright position while holding the blankets close so that the pleasant heat wouldn't go away. My arms felt weak and my ribs protested the movement. The spot was quite tender but nothing compared to my calf. I examined the area quite thoroughly – a large purplish bruise was there, just as on my arms where the Ranger had held me – I could see the image of his fingers on the bluish flesh. It alarmed me, but when I prodded the area it seemed my ribs were fine if a bit battered. A cold sweat wanted to gather on my brow when I realised what serious injury I had barely managed to avoid. A cracked rib or two was no small deal and a serious break might have even meant a punctured or otherwise injured lung. Combining this with a cold and the injury would have turned into a disaster. I was eternally grateful I was spared this fate and only got away with a large and painful bruise. The injury on my leg was tightly bound so there was little chance I would reopen the wound or do additional damage if I moved around. It was a struggle to do anything as battered as I was...

I reached out with my left hand and snatched up the first article of clothing. It was a red jumper – warm and fluffy enough. I hoped there would be some underwear even if that meant they went through _everything_ in my backpack. There was none – I would have to stay in the old set, which really did not thrill me at all. I was most desperate to change my undershirt - it got soaked through with sweat the previous day.

_At least it got submerged in water so maybe the smell it should have won't be a problem, eh?_

I grabbed the jumper and put it under the blankets to warm it up before donning it. The thicker trousers they chose for me were good too. They were warmer than the previous pair I wore, which I had no idea in what kind of a state it was after the events of the last day. Honestly said - I did not really wish to know – the slow climb up the tree (over the rough bark and patches of resin) should have made a deal on them.

At last I was dressed – not without silent grumbling and hissing, and a few more aching spots. The jumper was easy enough even if my arms protested at some positions; it was the trousers that proved to be a bigger problem. I had to get up on my feet first, before I could try to get them on. Somehow I managed to get to my feet even if my right calf was killing me. It was more than clear that my leg was not in a good condition and the injury quite a painful one. My muscles were beaten too – from cold shock, the strain of the day and the run... Middle Earth turned out to be the most physically and psychically challenging part of my life. I was glad my rescuers were considerate enough to give me privacy – I was a wreck when I finished dressing.

When it was clear they were not yet returning I moved to the things that littered the floor. As far as I could see only the food and a few articles of clothing were affected by the water that had rushed inside my backpack through that arrow hole. I never thought I would be grateful for plastic bags that were suffocating my world in garbage. Irony of life, perhaps? Just as I was about to search through my belongings in depth, the men appeared at the door. The first one held a leather pouch in his hand which was quite unlike the one I used for the food. However, I could not get a good look at it as the other one with the beard blocked my sight. He carried a small bowl from which a nice aroma spread in the room. _Breakfast!_

After that suspicious tea in the evening I was not inclined to eat anything from them until I could find out what kind of people they were; despite the grumbling of my stomach and the saliva that was gathering in my mouth as I got a first muted whiff of the delicious scent. If it smelt this good when my nose was already in the first stage of a cold, how good it must have smelled to a healthy nose? It might have been they were simply trying to help me, but I was wary of strangers and even more of strange substances. That I had had a first good sleep in awhile did not count. But at the same time I was reminded these people had saved my life.

A battle raged inside me. Take the food or not? Trust them or be wary of them?

The men came closer and the one who had given me the tea in the night gestured to the pile of furs I slept on. He obviously wished me to sit down there. I decided to obey his command – anything to remain in his good graces. Beside, I was not really ready to be standing and walking around and I was curious what this meeting was all about. With a slight limp I returned to the spot and with a grimace of discomfort sank down to the pile of furs. My ribs were really sore and I was still afraid I might have cracked one of them. I curled my good leg close to me and stretched the other out.

They both sat down a few hands lengths away from me. I could not help myself but to gaze at their clothing. I had never seen anything like it up close. The few pictures of native tribes from all around the world could never do justice to the garments. The craftsmanship was simple if I compared it to mine – they did not have many stitches it seemed but were made from a single cloth and hide. Obviously these men were impervious to the cold since their calves, arms and a large portion of the torso remained exposed to the air. I was overdressed compared to them.

Oddly enough, I was not scared of these two men who sat before me anymore – there was something in their faces, something that spoke of tranquillity and content which fascinated me. Their weathered faces seemed to tell a story of a life lived in the woods, under the sun, just as their skin and hands told of endless hours outdoors. But even though they were roughened by the weather, their faces were not as hard as the one of the Rangers'. Their dark eyes did not hold the steel all other men I had encountered did, but glowed with kind warmth that was, oddly, directed at me. No, it seemed there was nothing I should fear from them.

We observed each other in silence for some time before I was assaulted by a mild cough; after it was over the stranger with the wispy beard started to speak - slowly, careful and so that I would catch every syllable; almost as if he was waiting for me to recognize a few words of the language I heard for the first time in my life. I did not really know what to think of it but looked at him with eyes that showed no comprehension. The tongue was a strange one – it brought back memories of a time I started to learn Japanese which is completely different from my mother tongue; impossible to understand at first, but fun to speak later on.

After a few sentences the man shook his head slightly as if disappointed I did not understand him at all and I felt like an ungrateful fool sitting there. I really wished I could understand him – it would not make only his but also _my_ life easier. I could perhaps find a way back home – it would be logical that if I came here somehow I could return in that fashion too. But a warning was already forming in my mind that it would have been best that nobody knew where I came from – it would be too dangerous. What if they could come to my world? Perhaps Orcs would not have had a chance against modern weapons, but how long it would take them to learn or acquire them too? I rather believed them to be smarter than how they were portrayed than to underestimate them and make a colossal mistake.

The man with the wispy beard exchanged a few words with the man I had seen first before he turned back to me. I had to be focused on him and not on my inner monologue, I chastened myself. I had to find out more about these men.

"Ghân," he said and placed the palm of his right hand on his chest, then turned it towards me in question. His eyes held encouragement in them that chased away the last vestiges of fear I had lingering in my mind. I had to take what was given to me and make the best of it.

"Megan," I said and placed my hand to my collarbone too.

The man known now as Ghân repeated my name silently; gave me a nod and a small smile then pointed at the first man. "Achâk," he said and I repeated after him. They both smiled and nodded. For the first time it seemed my stay in Middle Earth could turn out to be better than I expected.

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A/N: This is it. What are your thoughts about this chapter?


	11. Let Me Paint You My World

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this one just as much as I enjoyed it writing. ;)**

**Edited – 8.9.2008**

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Chapter Nine: Let Me Paint You my World

**Or: How trust is won or lost**

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We once again fell into a comfortable silence. It seemed they were content for the moment to know my name and to see I was prepared to communicate. Well, their unthreatening appearance did a lot of good for me – no weapons or steel in sight was a smart thing of them to do. I was not really comfortable around armed men, especially after the happenings of the last day. In truth I was rather jumpy around everyone since the day I had stumbled into Arda. Who would fault me?

Now that I was wide awake and faced with the inhabitants of this realm I began to worry about the past day. What happened after I had fallen into the canyon? Did the Rangers win the fight and defeat the orcs or was there still a group of these frightening beings roaming the forest? Did these men know they were in danger?

_Now, how in the world should I ask them that?_

I sighed mentally. A language barrier was really something I wished I did not have to deal with at the moment. But, at least they were friendly enough and prepared to listen to me. I wasn't that good in nonverbal communication though… I wondered how things would turn out.

Ghân made a soft noise in his throat – he had placed the bowl before me on the ground while I was lost in thought. I looked up and was met with deep brown irises. The shape of the eyes was not that different from mine and the colour was similar too – perhaps only a shade or two darker. I was struck with the thought that he too risked quite lot with trusting me and that I was not the only one at a disadvantage here. If Rangers were as wary of me, how must it have been for these people to see me emerge from the canyon? We were both strangers that could loose everything with trusting the wrong person.

I looked down at the wooden bowl and the simple spoon that was tucked inside a hot broth. I really could not refuse a warm meal that actually had spices in it even if my mind told me to be wary of accepting food from them when I had a suspicion my tea might have been drugged. In the end I decided to take a leap of faith and took the bowl in my hands, noting it was quite warm. I thanked them and they nodded. I was surprised when Ghân said one word in his language then repeated mine.

_Is he teaching me his tongue? _

I repeated the word to his delight and took a first spoonful of the warm broth. I was pleasantly surprised; it was really good. However, it might have been that the meagre meals I had lived off for the last days changed my taste perception so that a simple meal as this one appeared quite better than it really was. Nonetheless, I melted as warmth settled in my stomach. This seemed to amuse the men as they let out a deep rumbling sound I identified as a sort of a chuckle or laugh.

As I ate my meal slowly, Achâk reached with one hand for the pouch that he had placed beside him and moved it to his lap. Since I was curious to a fault once my fear had passed I followed his movements with my eyes. The pouch that had caught my attention before was now in plain sight. It had strange symbols carved or pressed into the leather beside other adornments at its sides and strap. The craftsmanship reminded me immediately of the objects I had observed in one of the museums I visited with April. It must have belonged to an Indian warrior at one time, I was sure of it. It certainly looked like it, even though I had little knowledge of Native American history and art even after the numerous visits to the museums. The pouch gave rise to an idea that I wanted to dismiss as ludicrous as soon as it manifested. Was it possible…?

I slowed my chewing as I tried to make out what exactly was so familiar on the object. The man was riffling through the contents so he did not see me observing the pouch closely, but Ghân did. I missed his calculating gaze; only when he spoke to the other man did I notice he was aware of my fascination. I blinked in embarrassment for being so obvious. It is rude to be staring at someone's possession and in some countries could turn out to be dangerous. You never know how someone might take your admiration…

At a word from Ghân, Achâk paused in his movement. He slowly moved the pouch closer to the fire, so that the pattern was easily seen. I would have protested that he didn't need to display his belongings like that for me, but wisely kept my mouth shut and used the opportunity. It was made of fine leather with small glass beads sewn on the surface along a row of engraved animals that reminded me of the pendant I still wore around my neck. Three colours formed a simple but beautiful pattern that once matched the one painted on the surface but which had already faded with use and time. The animals were stylised but definitely a traditional artwork. The wolf in the far right end looked almost like the one I carried around my neck. Was this the reason they were so kind to me? The pendant?

A memory rose up in my mind - one of my rescuers had touched the bone-pendant when I was still quite disoriented because of the cold. The style was similar, I had to admit, but there was no way these men would know of the Native American tribes. Or was there? I remembered the tale about that place in the mountains I and April's friends went hiking to – now, who would spread such a tale in the first place and why? The conclusion I came to in the first days when it had sounded so far-fetched and incredulous suddenly made sense in an odd way. But there was even more - the natives had visited Middle Earth once upon a time! I was almost sure of it. Did these people who had looked after me knew of or had even met those visitors?

With wide eyes I looked at them and they uncannily seemed to realise what I had just found out, what connection I made in my mind. They nodded while speaking some sort of a formal greeting in their strange language. I did not know they used the fragments of the old Indian language. Little was preserved after all when visits were so infrequent as of late.

I reached up with my hand and touched the smooth bone and leather of my pendant. I still thought it was someone else's, but since it was clear I would probably never find the owner, it became mine. Was this little thing of such importance? Was it this that saved me in the end? I could not believe it even though the effect it had on the men was easy for me to see in their eyes and gestures. Ghân made a curious motion with his hand that I understood to be a plea to study the pendant. I easily undid the knot and placed the object in his leathered palm. His skin had the most beautiful bronze colour in the glow of the fire. Its richness contrasted with the whiteness of the bone he held. Gently he observed the craftsmanship, smoothing with his fingers over the small cracks and nicks in the surface. It appeared to me that he had seen something similar before.

Achâk offered me the pouch.

"Really, you don't need to…" I started to protest but at his word put away the almost empty bowl and took the pouch in my hands. The leather was smooth, the beads showed the passage of time. It was a beautiful work even though not something I would use to carry my things around. It was far too precious to be used in such a way.

As the belongings were returned to their respectable owners, quite a lively conversation was started much to my surprise. They showed a large amount of enthusiasm in teaching me the names of various things that were found in the room. In no time at all Ghân was slowly chatting with me, making me repeat sentences and words after him. I think I knew how to greet them, tell I'm hungry or thirsty and count to ten too beside other things. It was so surreal. But the amount of information was also quite overwhelming.

_It would be good to write everything down, don't you think? _

I could always learn better with things put on paper. Somehow it made it easier to remember. How to tell them that? I showed him with my hand that I wished to stop the lesson and stood up with a grunt. I moved to my things that still waited to be re-packed. The best thing to use would have been the stack of papers used for my journal. When it was not found immediately I searched for it with frantic eyes – I knew I had stacked it in one of the side pockets. I didn't know if those were waterproof or if water managed to get inside through the zipper. _Please, do not let it be destroyed!_

I finally found it under the small bag with the shampoo, soap and other things connected with body care. I would never mourn the make-up but would certainly feel lost without the sketchbook and my journal. Everything that had happened so far was written there – it was also one of the few things I had left of my home that really kept me grounded. Writing and drawing was what I was living for. I even sketched the bloody relief that brought me here in there!

"Thank God…" It was wrapped in one of the see-through bags and even got a pen with it. I quickly snatched it up together with the sketchbook and returned to my seating place on the ground. I carefully took the papers out and looked through them for signs of water damage. Beside a few crinkled edges where water did manage to get through everything was fine. I heaved a sigh of relief. The Druedain looked at me with an unreadable expression once a time while they discussed something. They were talking about the last confirmation that the life of their friends as they knew it had obviously changed. I resembled in my mannerism and clothing more the people of Gondor that those of a Native American tribe. Ghân especially was anxious to find out what had happened and who I was; what I knew… He knew too well that new people might take over the territories inhabited by others for generations.

I took the pencil sketch I made of the relief where I found the pendant. It was done mostly by memory and not exactly accurate, but it was good enough for my purpose. I needed answers and I hoped they would understand. I gave the papers to Ghân who was the first one to stretch his arm to take them. They both observed the stylised Orc with some alarm and immediately fired of a load of questions. Somehow I managed to understand they were asking me where I'd seen this. It was interesting how easy communication flowed when we both had things pointed out or drawn. I realised the best option of answering them was to draw a small cartoon – they would understand it better than anything that came out of my mouth anyway. And I desperately wanted to tell someone what had happened, to make them understand, if they didn't know already, that I came here against my will.

I just began to make out things in my mind and tried to calculate how much of the precious paper would go to naught when a loud crack of a log drew my attention to the cooling remains of wood at the outer edges. _Charcoal… _An idea formed in my mind that was a stroke of genius.

I stood up again and went to the fire where I found several pieces that would suit my need. The men moved with me, seeing that I had something in mind. A large enough space was left in the room to serve me as canvas. I considered the floor for some time before discarding this train of thought. I decided to draw on one wall which got the most of the light. It would not make me bend too much since my ribs could not take such treatment for long and the men would be able to follow the progress easily. In truth I always wanted to draw on the walls of my room but my mother did not allow me – this was equal part necessary as fun to me.

I made a large rectangle for the first box. I managed to get inside ten little stylised figures that stood together, forming a group. Ovals were for the heads and triangles for broad shoulders of the men and wide hips of the women. In the next box I indicated walking in the mountains – a stick in the hands of our leader, packs on the backs and mountains in the background. Only three figures were here but it was understood we were ten. I explained in my language the entire time and they knew when I said _group_ that that meant ten people. They nodded when I turned to them and bid me to continue – I was sure I saw alarm and puzzlement on the face of Ghân at the number of people I indicated.

I started a new box but was stumped at how to draw fog. In the end I indicated it with lines and some smudging of figures like they were difficult to see. I tried my best to explain what I just did – the fuzzy lines could mean a lot of things. For once it could signify memory, dreams, visions… anything really. It was then that I remembered I had to tell them too about the change of the season. The next box indicated that one of us got injured and that we settled down for some time. The mountains were still in the background, but I also drew a tree from which leaves were falling down. I did not spend a lot of time with this picture and started a new one immediately – I hoped to forestall any questions. It was the most important one after all. I indicated with a line a path I took away from the rest of the group, which was hinted at in the background, and sketched a small version of the relief on a rock underneath a tree with falling leaves. This got them glued to my every stroke on the wall. I still drew the fog, lightly moving my left hand over the surface so that the edges got blurred.

"This is me – Megan," I said and pointed at the figure that found the relief. I debated whether I should draw the pendant too and in the end did that. The next box showed me taking the pendant. Achâk immediately asked or tried to ask if it was truly so, halting my drawing with a gentle hand on my arm. I understood they both were slightly upset and kept repeating one word. I did not know it but they were telling me the name of the tribe that visited them, asking what happened, how such a thing could have happened. They knew nobody would leave such an important object lying around.

"I don't understand you, can you draw it please?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. I gave one of the charcoal pieces to Ghân who immediately sketched his own story beside mine. He indicated dwellings, fire and people together with stylised animals I've seen on the pouch. His tone of voice asked questions I was rather reluctant to answer once I understood them. How should I tell him that the people he knew did not live there anymore? That white people came and took over the land? His dark eyes asked so many questions I could never answer. There was also a small glimmer of fear hidden behind them that unsettled me.

I had gathered from their behaviour that they regarded me as something special. Not just because of my general appearance which was different from theirs but also for something else I did not know of. I got a feeling that visitors from my world were welcome, but surely the ones who did go were carefully chosen and the knowledge kept secret or there would have been groups of tourists with travel agencies from all around the world fighting to get a chance to step inside the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

_Maybe not – the government would surely close up the area if it were known… _

However…it was not clear if one who had stumbled or trespassed would be regarded equally as the one who was chosen for this journey, as the tales April's cousins told suggested. An ancient place of old rituals where a gate into another world waits… Why did people believe this was just a metaphor for the beauty of the mountains and valleys and not a bare fact? Why did the tribe who had once owned this land abandon such an important place? Was their own knowledge lost, the tale disregarded as a myth? Or was the entrance safeguarded by other means?

I turned back to Ghân, setting the numerous important questions aside for the moment – I had to concentrate on what he would tell me since he still did not stop drawing in the same simplistic manner I used. He placed among the tribe people that were bigger than others – a clear sign of their importance just as the saints were always portrayed taller than other figures in the early medieval paintings. Several wore object that looked like pendants around their necks – Ghân paid quite a lot of attention to them, alerting me to the importance of the object. That I drew it on the ground in my picture told him immediately that something wasn't quite right in my world. He asked about those men and women and I had no answer to give.

I sighed and moved my hand over my brow in a nervous gesture, leaving a dark stain behind. I did not know what I should tell him; what was the best option. Would he be mad at me for being a stranger – an intruder that stumbled here by sheer bad luck? His eyes weighted me; it was as if he could see I was troubled by his questions.

_What is there to do? What? You have to tell them the truth…_

I almost regretted my enthusiasm to explain everything that got me where I was now. Well, the same questions would have come up in the future anyway – I knew that very well, but I wished I had more time - time to weigh things trough; find the answers that would not put me in jeopardy. I had reached my physical limits the previous day and this mess was not something I needed in my frail state.

There was no guarantee how they would react to what I would tell them, what I would draw. Would they think me the same as all white people or would they understand I was not one of those men and women? Hell, I was born on a different continent!

Even though they appeared friendly enough, I still knew they could change their mind any time and see an enemy in me. Somehow I could not find the strength to trust them completely in me, yet. With a sigh I moved to a different part of the wall and started a new story – a sadder one. I hoped I would be able to continue my tale, but I was not confident my wish would come true after I would finish this one. It was after all logical to expect they were in contact with the Native American tribe for a long period of time and thus formed bonds of friendship – my survival was proof enough of this.

In the end I made a sequence of larger paintings. On one side of them were the Indian dwellings, with mountains at the back; on the other were white people with their houses. I left the torsos and faces of the white people empty while I filled those of the Indians to indicate darker skin. I also drew horses and wagons to explain some white people moved towards the Indian Territory. However, I did not even draw a hint of guns and other modern weaponry – swords and bows were the tools of war and hunt for both sides. It was better so, I believed.

Quite a lot of time was used for the first painting and it wasn't even that important… The next scene was more difficult because I did not know what happened to the tribe – nobody told me; and if they did, the loud talking drowned Sabrina's voice as she was explaining the history of the place. I had listened to her and learned quite a lot about the Gixsan people, but I did not know which tribe lived in that particular area once upon a time. It might have been that the place was deserted for longer periods since it was so remote. I never really found out how Sabrina learned of it in the first place…

As it was, I did not really wish to draw a fight if there was none (even if there was one it would be perhaps better for me to omit it completely). I was no expert on Canadian History, did not really know much about it… But the eyes of the men were sharp, their presence strong. I did not feel comfortable being untruthful to them. Something inside me would not let me tell them an outright lie – maybe gloss over something or downplay an event, but never lie. I knew that the majority of tribes in Americas were moved from their territory – either by force or some other means; some died out due to new illnesses, or disappeared among the white people… Either fate I portrayed was potentially dangerous since I did not know how they would accept it. Yet I could not draw something that would be a lie. I decided to portray the option that was the most possible and hit closer to the truth than the others. Through several drawings I told them that one half of the tribe moved away from this particular area to join with other of their people who lived further away from the invaders, one quarter died due to illness and the other lived with the white men who built a city near the mountains. This was the best possible explanation for the situation in my mind…

When I finished the story I was so mentally exhausted I could not find the energy in me to finish my own tale – whether they demanded it or not. My mind shifted through so many ideas how to portray something in the most simplistic way I felt like my brain was squeezed dry. At the same time I wished to soften the blow the fate of their friends would have on them. I did wonder though why they did not know this already, why they asked me of all people to explain. Did time pass in Arda at a different speed than on Earth? The spring-autumn discrepancy hinted at that… Or was this all just a test and they already knew? But their eyes hinted that was not so – they truly did not know what had happened to the tribe.

When I put down the last piece of charcoal that was left behind, I could only stare at the story on this part of the wall. Silence set down upon the room after it was completed. I put my fate into their hands now – I could only pray I would survive whatever would be the consequence of this. I did judge them right, didn't I? They were kind, tranquil people, weren't they?

An hour or more must have passed since I picked up the first piece of charcoal but it felt like I've relived all the decades since the first meeting of white and red people. And to think this was not even my country's history but April's. I knew more about Europe than I did about the Americas and I was glad I had listened as much as I did in school; that I was so involved with human rights… this was the only reason I knew as much as I did. But would this be enough to answer the questions of these two men, of their people?

Ghân and Achâk stared at the drawings for a long time before a first sigh echoed in the room that had become shrouded with silence once the scraping of charcoal was no longer heard. Nervously, I turned towards the man that uttered the sound. It was Ghân. He stared at the black lines on the stone wall, appearing more like a statue than a living being in his motionless state. Deep sadness surrounded him, regret and sympathy. It was as though he himself knew more about the suffering and turmoil of the tribe than I did even when I came from their world. There was something - an expression on his face or the soft light in his eyes, perhaps - that moved me. I wanted to reach out with my hand for his, wished to tell him that everything would be alright, but I could not. Strange, how my fear evaporated at their silent reaction. But it hurt so much more, this silence, than any shouting ever could. I felt guilty that something so special was lost, that such a strong bond was broken.

I lowered my eyes to the floor. A thin layer of fine black dust was gathered at the bottom of the wall; the same dust covered the palms of my hands. I could not look them in the eyes or their faces. I had no right – I was a stranger that should not be here in the first place. It should not have been me who delivered this message, the one who came here. Was the pendant really this important? Was one careless action enough to turn my life upside down?

The atmosphere in the room shifted to one of mourning – something irrevocably changed, but what kind of a change it was, was not yet apparent. I sat there in silence, waiting for a reaction. Achâk suddenly stood up. I turned towards him despite the feeling that told me to keep my eyes on the floor. I do not know what he saw in my eyes, but my emotions were always transparent in them. Fear, sadness and shame too… in those moments I felt like a criminal for stumbling into Middle Earth, for delivering such news. I would never forget the expression on his face, the devastated look in his eyes.

_What have I done?_

For the first time I understood and realised that the knowledge I carried unknowingly was dangerous; not only for me, but for others too. I hurt the person who had helped me. With a painful throb of my heart I looked away, feeling an uncomfortable pressure in my nose and eyes. His gaze burned a hole in the back of my head, but I dared not move. Whatever hope my news crushed it was not done on purpose – far from it. Achâk did not react like this because he knew that there would be no visitors anymore, it was because he knew they were abandoned, their bond broken. It was a disappointment to realise I was not sent here but (from all signs pointing it out) stumbled here unknowingly and against my wishes. And partly because what I've just showed them could have been their fate, their future too. They were being driven away from their territory for centuries… I added salt to an open wound and rubbed it in for good measure.

Achâk slowly moved out of the room, his emotions like a cloud hanging above his head. He only stopped to squeeze the shoulder of Ghân who sat at the other side – in comfort or sympathy, I did not know. When his form disappeared through the door the air in the room became lighter even though it was still quite tense and uncomfortable. I waited for Ghân to say something, react in any way…

After a few moments of silence, he began to speak with his deep voice. Silently, almost reverently he told a tale of the friendship between the unknown Native American tribe and his people. From his gestures, pointed at the drawings, I understood what he revealed to me even though I did not understand a word he said. It was the tone of his voice, the rise and fall of the timbre that painted out his world, showed his people as beings that lived in harmony unchanged by the flow of time. He himself was like an old tree with deep roots that grounded him even when his branches reached out to the sky, grasped for the light of the stars and the moon that was forever out of reach. It was this sense of calm, wisdom and understanding that qualified him as a great leader he was. The Druadan were fortunate to be under his care and leadership in these dark times.

He turned to me during his tale and from the gentle tone I knew he was not blaming _me_ for what had happened to his friends and for being the unfortunate messenger of bad news. I felt tears gather in my eyes in relief as I listened. He read my heart like an open book.

"_No matter where you come from and who your ancestors are, you are welcome here, my child. And I thank you for being honest with us," _he said, but I did not understand him at the time. Still, his kind eyes and the warm hand that touched my own were enough.

"Thank you for not being angry with me, for everything you have done to save my life…" I told him and bowed my head in thanks. I believe he understood I was grateful for many things.

"_Will you tell me more?"_ he asked and gestured at my story on the other side of the wall. He had guessed what I would tell him, but wanted me to explain myself. At the same time he wondered how I could have stepped through the veil, why was the pendant located on the ground. The relief with the Orc troubled him but my honesty was reassuring. Who knew the will of magic that controlled the gate?

I picked up new pieces of charcoal and settled myself in front of the wall. Relief still echoed inside my body together with the elevated heartbeat that sent by blood flowing rapidly through my veins, warming me up. I looked at the drawing of me taking the pendant and took a deep breath to fortify myself. I was tired already but I would finish this. It was important. I drew how I returned on the path but my friends were gone. I also wanted to tell him that the mountains changed, that this was a different world already. After some time of searching for a solution of the problem I drew a Japanese symbol for mountain (yama) over the depicted mountains of Canada and two symbols meaning 'new mountain' over the ones in Middle Earth - Arda. I hoped he understood I wanted to point out the change with the symbols. He did for his eyebrows moved up and he nodded. He also seemed lost in thought afterwards – his hand slowly stroked the strands of his wispy beard when I moved my gaze to his form from the corner of my eye.

I too wondered then (as I had for several days) – why the pendant had been there, how it was connected to my journey… Ghân knew it was a key but the visitors had always carved them before their journey, after they were chosen. At least so it was told. Then why had I found one beside the foreboding relief? Was it placed there when the tribe moved away or was it a product of the magic? He knew so little - not enough to answer the question… But it was clear enough that there should not be any relief, picture or drawing, depicting orcs beside the gate. Who had placed it there and why?

It was when I was asking him for a way back home that his mood changed. He focused his eyes on my face with an intensity that unsettled me – once again I had a feeling he was weighing me, trying to see to the bottom of my soul. His dark brown eyes searched for something I did not know, searched for a confirmation of a feeling he had, a thought that wriggled itself into his mind. Why did everyone in Middle Earth I had contact with find something inside me? That Ranger with his eyes the colour of steel – he searched for something that eluded me too.

What I did not know was that my physical appearance was quite unique, my mannerism and possessions alien and my eyes too open. They told a fascinating tale to the ones who had the power, a small spark of the flame imperishable, to look into my soul. And Ghân was one of the few of his people who still could do that. It was the reason he trusted me – he saw my struggles and compassion, saw my truthfulness. He reached for the pendant that he had placed beside himself and turned it once again in his palms. A fine layer of black dust that covered my palms too was spread across the white surface, gathering in the nicks and scratches. His dark eyes once again captured mine.

"_You are a she-wolf – her strength lies in you, my child. You have found some and used it well, but there is still so much you have to learn, to do. I do not believe you came here to be sent back again so soon. No, you cannot return yet…" _

He knew the Orcs were defeated and that he and his men could find a way around the Rangers and soldiers that swarmed in the area to get me back to the gate, but also that the strong magic awakened the interest of the Enemy. The relief of an Orc was no coincidence in his mind and he was reluctant to bring me back t the veil even though he theoretically could. Yet, that would have been done with great risk to his people and he trusted in the higher purpose of the gate's magic too much. As he had said in his language – my journey was not done yet – it had only just began.

He gave me the pendant back, folding it safely inside my dirty hands like the dust were not something to be avoided but something completely natural. I confess I was often smudged with paint and dust when I painted or sculptured, but I always avoided all contact with important pieces or objects while in that state. It felt like a sacrilege to touch the pendant with sooty hands, but at the same time the carved piece of bone felt at home in such conditions. It felt alive – it was not like an empty piece on display in a museum.

I did not understand what he tried to tell me.

He picked up a small piece of charcoal and drew one single picture that dashed all my hopes. In it a group of soldiers hunted his people and cut off the way to the gate – to my home. He did not lie – the possibility of him and his men safely getting past the Rangers in the following days would be small and every hour spent here was one hour closer to being found. The report he got before he came to visit me told him the soldiers were attempting to get out the bodies that were tangled in the branches among the stones in the stream. The Ranger that overlooked the works was the same as the one who had captured me – Ghân did not like this at all and his initial decision to move me to safety was strengthened. But he had yet to form a plan.

I was distressed by the news and tried to quench the sudden urge to cry - to no avail as tears soon started to glide down my cheeks. _Can't go back? Why?! Please… I just want to go home…_I chocked back a sob, sniffling like mad. I stood up and turned away to hide my emotions and a tear-stained face. It was not an irrational reaction but quite an explosive one that caught me unprepared. I had hoped so hard he would be able to get me back _now_, that I would return home and never come back again.

Ghân's hands gently settled on my shoulders.

"_Do not cry… you will return back. One day, but now it is too dangerous for you to go there. Far too dangerous…"_

He guided me to the bed with few kind words and gently pushed me down. I sat in a miserable heap on the furs as he knelt on the ground in almost the exact place as before. He reached for the pouch abandoned there and took out a bowl into which he poured some water from a small flask. Then he took a piece of cloth and wiped the black sooth from my brow and cheek gently, soothing me with the care he put into the motions of his weathered hand. I could only stare at his calm face, but the tension at the eyebrows revealed to me he too was distressed by the situation, albeit for different reasons than I. My hands were next before he cleaned himself up too. In the time he did all this, my emotions settled down and I thought things through - and afterwards felt quite foolish. I could wait for the men to move away, couldn't I? He did not say I could _never_ return back home.

"Ghân?" I turned to him and he looked me in the eyes. "Thank you," I said with gratitude. He was really a balm for my soul. Even though he could not understand my language, he was the first person to understand me in this land at least a small bit and I would be forever grateful to him for that.

He smiled his warm smile and nodded. It was like he knew that I needed this – needed this closeness with someone after the days of solitude and fear. I looked at the pendant that rested in my lap and suppressed a sigh. A wet cloth was put into my hands and with an encouraging motion of his hand he stood up to leave. I looked up at him as his eyes turned to look down upon me with a kind glimmer before he turned around and went out of the room with slow and measured steps. It was a walk of someone who would return back shortly and I did not feel abandoned as I had feared for a second I would.

_No, he will not abandon you, Meg. Something tells me he won't._

I cleaned up the pendant and fastened it back around my neck. Its presence was familiar now. With one last caress of its surface I turned my attention to other matters. I still had some things to do - backpack to pack and belongings to inspect – no time to dally on things that would not change so quickly. At least I knew now I could count on someone here. That much was clear.

I gathered the papers together that were still lying on the ground and put them back in order. Afterwards I launched myself into writing down words I could still remember perfectly. It was best I started to learn their tongue and learn fast. Hopefully my skill for languages was not completely useless, but I hoped my grandmother's genes still held true in me.

The limited number of available papers made me painfully aware how careful I should be with them and use as little space as possible when writing. I cramped the words and lines but still managed to make a list that was legible. Afterwards I went through my things, quickly determining what was ruined and what saved and started to pack. It was not long after I had moved to the backpack when Ghân reappeared. He was curious and the length of time I usually used to pack everything doubled if not tripled. But the halting conversation that started between us lifted my spirits.

What I did not know was that he had talked through a plan of action with his men. The amount of physical strength I displayed moved it forward for a few hours that could save him a lot of trouble.

The guards still watched the stream and the Rangers who were burying their dead, just as one group of the Druedain moved towards west on the remnants of an old road with me. My path was decided.

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A/N: Leave a comment, exclaimer, anything... :)

**Those of you who know more about the N.Am. tribes in Canada, I would be glad to hear your opinion on my portrayal of their fate. Hope I didn't offend anyone since I know many a tribe is still a living and breathing entity and not a relic of a time past.**


	12. A Journey to Safety

**A/N: Sorry for the longer wait, but it was quite hard to write this chapter for some reason. I do hope there are not any major (and minor) mistakes insibe, but if there are, let me know, please. I've asked one of the betas at the site to look at my story but I did not get a responce yet. Maybe I'll ask someone else too.**

**I've done some research for the story, so I hope the next chapters will be much easier to write. Thank you all for leaving a note ;) hugs**

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Chapter Ten: The Journey to Safety Chapter Ten: The Journey to Safety

**or: How is one to become a part of a group**

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I was walking behind one of the seven men that accompanied me on the narrow path that led from the small shelter towards west. It was two hours ago that we set out, I estimated, but it felt that had happened ages ago. As I looked around I did not really know what to think of my entourage – it was nice to have company, but at the same time it felt quite odd to see and hear human voices again.

The men were of similar build as Ghân and Achâk, with few personal traits to set them apart. They were all dark skinned compared to my white complexion that preferred to turn red rather than brown in summer, but I must say that the colour was not as dark as it could be – it appeared like they had a nice tan, nothing more. What we all shared was the hair colour and height – we both were smaller compared to the Rangers and that other group of men I've encountered. This fact somehow put me more at ease after all the drama and horror of the previous day. It was nice to be able to look them in the eye without raising my eyes or straining my neck.

I was ready to go as soon as Ghân mentioned moving away even though the direction was opposite of my home. He had told me hours before I couldn't return home yet, but the pang of disappointment and apprehension I experienced as we turned towards west was hard to ignore. Even though I became reconciled with the fact that I would not see my home for quite some time, the thought that rose in dark depths of my mind whispered of a far longer separation. It frightened me, but the worried looks I saw in the eyes of other men from time to time were enough to keep my mouth shut. They too were walking away from home I realised. The spiteful part of my soul wanted to revel in our shared fears and discomfort, but I rent it silent immediately. I was still out of sorts (even if I vehemently denied the fact), shell shocked and overwhelmed, but that was no reason for being mean to people who helped me and continued to do so even though their lives would have been so much easier were they to let me go on alone.

It was past midday when we set out and the shadows were gradually lengthening again. I know not what was discussed in those hours before our departure, but it appeared they needed a lot of time to prepare for the journey. What I learned much later was that much of the territory outside the Druadan forest was not as well known as when the Druedain held control over the land and that Ghân and Achâk had much trouble finding a solution for a safe hiding place for me even if they knew it had to be in the west. An almost forgotten tale of a visitor who lived in the desired direction of the mountains for many years solved the problem though. A young man, who remembered his grandmother telling the tale, told that one of his ancestors visited that place in a time when travelling was still possible and that it was well hidden from sight and other roads – just what Ghân hoped for. It was decided (after much arguing and debating in shushed voices) they would take a look at the place and decide once they've determined it really was what they searched for. The amount of time we would spend on the journey might also turn out to be enough for the danger to pass. One group of scouts had already gone forward on the old roads and the guards at the river called off.

What my thoughts were on the fact that hundred of miles would separate me from the entrance into this world and my home was not that important in the bigger picture. And I could not tell them if I wished to either. How bitter I felt in the next days to have all power over my life taken from my hands. It was smart of Ghân to conceal I was possibly dragged on some futile journey – who knows how I would have reacted. I did get some rest and strength back in the short stay, but it would have been better for me to remain in one place for a longer period of time than to wander through the bushes again. Ghân obviously was of a different opinion. He sent one messenger to his people to tell of his prolonged absence. It was obvious that one man could slip past the Rangers, but not a whole group with one injured and tired woman in tow.

As it was, my calf was shooting bolts of pain up my leg. All in all, I was fitter for a bed and a nice long sleep than a long trek through the bushes, which was what we planned to do for the rest of the day. I dared not complain though, I got the message from Achâk that we were to remain quiet crystal clear and I really did not wish to attract his attention with stupid or unwanted behaviour. His reaction before, although not a violent one, had made me aware he wasn't too pleased with my arrival and the knowledge I bore. I didn't know what exactly bothered him, but it was not hard to guess these people had enough problems with the Rangers and not enough time to look after me too. So I gritted my teeth, fortified myself against discomfort and followed the man before me – my eyes firmly on his back.

The journey was smooth and the terrain they chose easier than my wild chase through the woods. They were mindful of my injuries and I was never in want of a helping hand when things got too hard for me to handle alone. I didn't count how many times someone grabbed my hand when we moved uphill, but I was grateful all the same. When we made short stops (I suspected they were solely for me to catch my breath) I could observe the men who took me under their wings. It was not the physical appearance that fascinated me the most on them, though it was somewhat exotic – it was their clothing that really caught my eye. They wore skirts made of long strands of something that appeared like grass, but I was not sure until I got my fingers on it. It turned out it was a sort of a wild plant they used for almost everything – ropes, baskets, clothing... I must say it blended quite well with the forest floor and I was sure this was the reason they wore it in this fashion. The bows and arrows they carried on their backs appeared like extensions of their arms - as if they were born with them in their hands - so smooth was their handling of the dangerous weapons.

We suddenly stopped under a line of large cliffs – I so hated those after the orc attack. It was hard to mask my unease. I turned around to look at the fellow who was ordered (or asked – I did not understand what Ghân said) to carry my backpack. It looked like he was not bothered in the least by the weight and in fact appeared to be quite enraptured with the designated task. I must admit I did not give my backpack without some resistance when Ghân came inside the room to take it away. After all, it was the only thing I had in Middle Earth. I did see the prudence of letting a strong young man carry the heavy load and acquiesced - my leg reminded me in unmistakable ways it was injured and I was sneezing and coughing more frequently by the hour back then. It was a smart thing to do in order to preserve energy and get better soon. It was also nice to be able to walk with my shoulders unburdened by the load – I could really enjoy the scenery which was fascinating once we moved out of the hollow where the small room was located.

The man seemed unperturbed by the stop and I too wouldn't have minded the short respite for my leg, if we were not standing below a tall and bare cliff. The man before me turned around and called my name in a muffled voice, still mindful of the order we were given. But there was no tension seen in his face; the strong concentration they all used to discern sounds of approaching enemy was replaced by an aura of calmness that I unconsciously linked to them after talking with Ghân. It was a welcome change from the way everyone behaved few hours before - constant shifting of eyes, ears straining to hear every sound and the tight way they gripped their bows when something caught their attention… I wondered what had happened to change that.

_Have we moved far enough from the Rangers, so that you feel safe again? _

I had no idea where I was and how many miles separated me from my family, my friends, so I could not exactly share their mood. Every change I encountered before in Middle Earth was something I would have wished to avoid. They appeared content with it, but I decided I had yet to determine myself if that change was as welcome to me as it was to them.

The middle-aged man indicated I should move forward on the narrow path towards the front. I grabbed the strap of the pouch I carried and rearranged it so that I could move past him and the large bush that almost closed up the path. The pouch was the same one I had taken from the dead men and stored food inside. I had cleaned it up and stashed inside my journal and some other necessities like handkerchiefs, water and the amount of dried fruit Achâk handed to me when we set out. He appeared kind enough then, but I knew that he did not like me as much as Ghân did.

"_Keep better care of this than you did before. And no swimming in freezing streams…"_ he had said to me. I did not understand a word and it showed on my face, I'm sure. The men who were waiting for me to join them seemed amused so I took it he was not entirely serious this time. They kindly hid their smiles, knowing the medicine man made such orders all the time.

I had looked from one to another, not understanding what was going on when Ghân put his hand on my shoulder – startling me quite a bit – and with a barely visible shake of his head and a smile indicated it was not that important. I resisted the urge to lift my left eyebrow in my usual gesture of disagreement and let him lead me to my place in the line we formed.

I pushed aside the memories and walked forward with determined steps. I had to be careful of the long branches tough since I also carried the functional bow and the quiver with arrows over my shoulder. The orcs had frightened me too much to rely solely on the skill and strength of these men. I believed deep in my heart it would not be fair to them either. They would try to protect me, but Middle Earth was a dangerous place. They helped because they decided to do so of their own free will and I felt obliged to give something in return. What I could possibly do to repay them their kindness I did not know yet, but I was sure I would get an idea or two in the next days – I had a feeling this was not a short trek.

I silently prayed the six months of kyudo would pay off so I would hit a target with the stiff bow in case anything happened. But first I had to take better care of the wooden weapon – no more tangling it in the branches… I knew I had no idea about real fighting and the possibility of me freezing up at an attack was far greater than I wished to admit even to myself. Yet, I also knew that the best way to survive unexpected situations was to be prepared. I did not expect attacks the first couple of times they happened (and really had rather miserable provisions for survival in the mountains), and was determined to change that right then. Ghân and Achâk had nodded to me with a glimmer of approval in their eyes when I took the weapons and gave only the backpack to the young man to carry. They might have been friendly and kind, but I had to learn to fend for myself sooner or later. No cuddling – I had to become strong and could not begrudge them for trying to make me stand on my own feet. It was what I wished for myself after all.

I moved forward and past the men standing beside the bushes. A large patch of mud was blocking the path and it was not the only one on our road. These parts of the forest were in the shadows for the larger part of the days so mud was nothing extraordinary. That was also the reason why my heavy boots were dangling from the backpack and I walked in soft moccasin-like shoes they miraculously procured in the short hours before the journey. The downside to soft soles had revealed itself quite quickly. I felt every stone and twig I stepped on – it was as if I were walking barefoot. I quickly decided to ignore the initial discomfort (what else was there to do?) and learned to walk in them on the rocky ground. It was best to step precisely where they put their feet. Well, I wished I could but my slight limp annihilated that option. Now I had to balance on the narrow path and get over with as few prints left behind as possible. No easy feat, but I managed with little help in a form of a strong hand.

Past one tall and broad tree I arrived at the beginning of the line, just a few steps from where Ghân stood. He was looking at the valleys below since the terrain opened up here. There was a noticeable gap between the trees where a mighty rock jutted out of the ground and I could look down upon the wooded slopes and hills. It was a beautiful sight and the fresh green of new leaves could be discerned in the lower parts of the forest, a gentle green hue colouring the tops. Up here the forest was still sleeping.

He turned and motioned to join him. He greeted me with and with a softly spoken question in his language politely inquired about my health. The only answer I remembered was 'bad or not good' since it was one of the easiest words to remember. Fortunately we both made quite a list of words and phrases. With a raised hand I indicated for him to wait while I quickly pulled out the vocabulary list I've made. In no time at all I had the correct answer.

"_I'm fine. Thank you,"_ I told him with a smile. The constant coughing fortunately appeared to be a thing of the past, but my nose was getting worse on this windy and cold day. Still, I was reasonably well for someone who almost drowned in freezing water. That tea which Achâk was so fond of forcing me to drink at every stop seemed to work. It had a bitter taste that clung to my tongue and an even stronger smell that reminded me faintly of sage tea my grandmother drank in winter, but I could hardly say no when it cleared my nose and dulled the slight ache in my temples. I still had to stifle my coughing from time to time.

"_This is good to hear. We will move another two hundred hunting paces today. There should be enough daylight left,"_ he said. With more elaborate gestures and with the help of my list I go the gist of his message even if I had no idea what hunting had to do with our journey. I guessed it was something they understood, so I left it at that. I consoled myself that he did not understand me much of the time either.

He turned to the impressive scenery again and in a hushed voice explained something, pointing at one area in particular. It was slightly to my right, barely visible this high up, but nonetheless something that told me exactly where I was in Middle Earth. That much I knew – it was a beacon hill. It was the only bare spot among the sea of fresh green and brown. The repeating of a word fire and danger was Ghân's way of telling me it was a beacon lighted to warn the people.

_Holy Shit! Could it be I've landed in Gondor of all places? So much fighting happens here in the Lord of the Rings… and in other periods of time too. Too close to Mordor… to close to…_

"Gondor…" I muttered to myself. The realisation made my flesh creep. I missed the sharp look Ghân gave me since he masked his utter surprise surprisingly well. I only caught a strange glint in his eyes when I turned my eyes to him once again, nothing more. But I said no more, only nodded when he resumed his talking. I understood some words or dimly remembered them, but I was nonetheless aware that beacons were something to be avoided. My knowledge of Middle Earth was one thing I've very soon decided to keep to myself. I had a feeling it was better so.

Other men came to the small cleared space too. They have covered the tracks we left in the mud as best as they could. This was also the reason why I was sent forward. We were now past the range the scouts from the beacons patrolled and it showed in the relaxed atmosphere. We continued forward only to stop after hundred yards. There was a bridge – a real stone bridge. It was covered with leaves, branches and lichen, almost blending with the surroundings. It was the sharp contrast on the ground that made one aware of its presence – the small and narrow bridge spanned over a gorge. It was in a bad shape, but still appeared strong enough to get us over the rushing stream that had cut deep into the ground. The parapet was almost nonexistent, but must have been quite beautiful once if the crumbling remains of simple decoration were anything to go by.

Two men who I have not seen before stood there. They came with a group sent ahead. One had distinctive features in the area of his eyes that reminded me of Ghân, only much younger – it was his son. He searched the path from the tales before the rest set out. Together with the man who remembered the tale and suggested the location, he found one of the numerous paths crisscrossing the mountains. They waited at the bridge for us to arrive at the sorry remains of an old road network that spread from east to west across the White Mountains and has been long forgotten by everyone. Built by the Gondorians in better times it has fallen into decay once dark times came and the mountains became dangerous. Orcs lurked in such places too often and the paths on the plane of Anórien were much better suited for trade and travel than these here.

Ghân greeted them with a smile and listened patiently to their report. At least that was the feeling I got, but they might have been discussing something different too. I did not trouble myself too much with the strange language.

"_But first we must rest. Let us share our meal," _suddenly said Ghân to us when the men began asking questions themselves. I had no idea what was going on and the multitude of hushed voices sounded like gibberish to me. Not a word held any meaning. They immediately went about their business - placing their packs down, while keeping their bows and quivers close, but I was left standing on the spot, feeling lost. I focused my eyes on Ghân's face, too uncomfortable to get in someone's way when they were rushing from one place to another, until he came to me again.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand…"

He only gently put his hand on my left shoulder and accompanied me to the place his son had chosen for the short stay, telling me in two simple words that I was to eat and rest, nothing more. I got a feeling he paid far more attention to everything I did from this short stay on and kept me closer to him.

_Ok, eat and rest. Can do that…_

I nodded and went with him to a small group of rocks that formed quite convenient seating places. I was introduced to his son Nawat. Only when I learned more of the language did I understand his name meant left-handed. And he truly was the only man in the company who did everything with his left hand. It must have been quite an oddity, no wonder his name too told of this particular trait.

Dried berries with cold grilled meat and some sort of carrots was what we ate. It was not much but still felt quite filling; which surprised me, I must admit. The meat was wild game just like all the meat I've eaten since arriving in Middle Earth. I know none of my vegetarian friends would have minded it at this time for hunger is a great incentive to overcome even the most firm convictions. I had no problems with it, but thoughts of my home slithered frequently into my mind at the oddest moments. I was really homesick by now.

The men talked with one another freely, the friendly banter proof they felt quite safe. One or another joke was said, but they did not laugh very loud. I believe they were just being cautious since we were still in the enemy territory. But the atmosphere was really changed. I ate slowly of what I was given, savouring the taste and enjoying a decent meal that was not consumed in silence. It felt good to be among people, I determined, even though we did not understand each other yet. It was then that I noted two men from the rear were not present. I did not pay attention to our number before – they must have moved away when I was busy listening to Ghân when he was rummaging through one of the packs and I had to hold the items he removed.

_You should really be more aware of what is going on… _

"Ghân, where are those two men?" I turned to my right where he was sitting, having finished his meal a while ago. With a few broken words I tried to ask him the question again, but somehow did not make sense. I guess my word choice was not that brilliant either. Semantics - who could truly understand it?

I grabbed a branch that was at my feet and drew a little picture in the dirt. _If nothing else works return to the simplest method available._ I was sorely tempted to draw a question mark beside it even though I knew he could never understand its meaning. With a lot of waving he got it and answered. I believe we both were a cause to much amusement among the men, if their smiles and stifled laughing was anything to go by. It did not matter – I got my answer.

The two missing men were sent out as fresh scouts on the path. They were ordered to discover whether the road ahead of the area scouted by the previous group was passable and where the soldiers of Gondor were located. It was an old practice Druedain used to move swiftly and stealthily through the forests. The places where larger groups could safely rest were meeting places, discretely marked just as the paths the scouts took. I would probably never see the small signs left behind since they were extremely careful to leave as few prints as possible.

"Oh, gone scouting… ok." I didn't really know back then how useful this practice was, but I learned to appreciate it soon enough.

Our camp was almost at the western border of the Druadan forest if one would draw a straight line on the map of the area. Even though we walked but for few hours the Rangers were now several miles behind our backs – if they even knew yet we have ever been there. I was rather glad to leave them behind.

It was not long afterward that we set out again. The bridge with no parapet was not exactly what I wished to use to cross the gorge, but managed to get over just fine. I hated the shivers that ran up and down my spine as I foolishly looked down – it was the most frightening sight. That there were several men close behind only added to the sensation of danger. I reacted the same way even on a balcony at one of my friend's flat.

The roads spreading from the bridge were not what the word itself implies. They once had paved sections but the centuries of neglect changed them dramatically. Stones lay hidden under layers of dirt, roots, leaves and other vegetation. The one we took had narrowed down to a thin line that could be seen among the bushes; otherwise there were almost no outward signs of it ever existing. The only presence of human activity was seen on the walls of the cliffs where old craftsman removed the protruding parts to widen the road. Their efforts were almost for naught since bushes and trees grew there now. Their long branches were carefully moved aside for us to pass through so that a minimal amount of evidence was left behind.

Since the atmosphere in the group became more relaxed, short conversations were started among the men who walked close together. Achâk grumbled for some time, but later on talked with the young boy carrying my backpack. What they were discussing I did not wish to know - their tone held a generous amount of amusement and I had a stupid suspicion they were laughing about me. I had nothing to prove it, but the laughing behind my back certainly felt awkward. Achâk thankfully soon moved forward to walk beside me. I do not know what prompted this, but it was nice of him to try to start a conversation anyway. From time to time, when the terrain or opportunity allowed, I was given a short lesson by him on the plants we saw. Soon enough the entire group rotated – everyone taking a turn in teaching me something. Obviously, Ghân told them I knew little of the forests, tracking and other life-saving thing.

"_How do you not know this plant?" _

The slightly exasperated tone and tightened lips told me Achâk was not happy with me. I failed once again to recognize a useful bush. Its nuts were used in various dishes and easily stored in the winter. Every child recognized it.

I looked at him with a sigh before I lowered my eyes. I had no idea what I've done wrong this time. The many startled looks I've seen since they started to talk to me were more than enough even if they were very kind about my ignorance. I knew I had absolutely no clue about plants and it was clear the men found this highly singular. Still, they seemed satisfied with the amount of things I remembered after the short lessons. Not Achâk though – he was like an old professor every student feared to stumble across in the halls.

Thank God he turned to Ghân (who stood beside him) and did not bombard me with his disappointed eyes anymore. "_Ghân, she knows noting – I could put poisonous leaves or roots in her tea and she would drink it down_…"

Achâk started a heated conversation. I do believe the calm responses he got in return only agitated the medicine man more. I itched to move away and hide behind the broad backs of other men who listened to the conversation with obvious curiosity. That I did not understand a word of what was said made the situation even worse.

"_She relies on our guidance for the moment, but she is not helpless. Do not forget her guarding spirit. She is a wolf by heart, only a young and inexperienced one. It is our duty and privilege to teach her what we know."_ Ghân replied with his perpetual calmness.

Achâk hissed back, waving one hand in my direction, _"That's beside the point! What kind of people are they to know noting? I wonder now how she managed to get this far on her own. It's unbelievable! I looked forward to exchange experiences and we get_ this._" _

The last word was fortified with an energetic gesture that made me move a step backwards. I bumped against Nawat who placed his hands on my shoulders to stop my retreat. I really wished he would let me go – I hated the memories his actions called forth. I almost dug my heel into his foot, but changed my mind as Ghân continued in his calm voice even though several murmurs went about our group. Whether in his or the healer's support, I had no idea.

"_She knows, Achâk – look into her eyes. There is a dark pool behind them, a spring of knowledge you never got a taste of. You won't get even a smallest of sips if you do not listen to her, give her time. Do you not see she is frustrated too? That she is unused to the forest and not knowing?"_

Suddenly all eyes were trained on me. I startled - my fight or flight instinct kicking in. It was only the warm hands of Nawak that held me in place. The men began to talk and even though the conversation was not a loud one, the amount of gestures pointed at me was unsettling. The sensations of helplessness and fear intensified – my heart rate sped up and there seemed not to be enough air filling my lungs. _What is going on?!_

I wanted to trust them, but their actions gave me no reason to as an argument broke out. I've trusted Ghân – was I wrong to do so? I could not help myself but to doubt my previous assessment of him and others. The nervousness called forth another deep cough that shook my frame. The adrenaline pumping inside my veins was not good right now for my health.

Ghân's eyes settled on me and my frightened expression. I know I've must have looked terrified for he stepped closer to me immediately. _"No fear, no one will hurt you, this I promise."_

The entire group suddenly fell silent. His son relinquished his hold and moved a step back to give me some space. I do believe they've all forgotten I had no idea what they were arguing about only that it was connected to me. I was shaken though – any sign of hostility or anger triggered extreme reactions. I had never been afraid of people, but now I was – I learned it the hard way. Not even a bunch of drunken thugs I've met once when going home from a club scared me as much as this rather mild argument did. But I had not gotten over the traumatic events experienced in Middle Earth yet, only pushed the memories and emotions away until I could find strength and courage in my heart to deal with them. Possibly not ever…

I moved a few steps away from them, towards the east in an unconscious need to get as close to my home as possible. Why didn't I try to get back alone? Why did I allow them to persuade me this was the only way? I was tired, hurting and afraid – I did not want to deal with disagreements right now! The happy bubble of being alive finally burst. I could feel my right hand shake slightly with nerves.

"_See what you've done now… She is still our guest, it doesn't matter who her parents are and where she lived prior to arriving here."_

Ghân seemed angry at Achâk – the drawn eyebrows and pinched lips evidence enough even if one were not to hear the tone of his voice. His gentle rumble became even deeper and coarser – it was like someone was angrily scraping across wood with a chisel. A command appeared to be hidden in his voice which everyone heeded.

"_Our feelings matter not! She was chosen by Eru and we have to help her. Do you understand?" _

A long-suffering sigh echoed from the defeated healer, _"You are right, but I am curious how her ignorance of the most basic things could be any good."_

_Ghân was quick to retort, "This is not for you to know or decide – trust Eru if you cannot trust her, yet. You must admit she gambled with telling us as much as she already did and we have no reason to betray her trust."_

Nawak spoke up with his young voice, kindly nodding at me and several men seemed to support his statement if the murmurs were to be taken as agreement. _"She shows great interest in what we taught her – she is a willing student."_

That seemed to end the matter and we were walking ahead not a moment later. But there were no more lessons given on that day and I was beside Ghân all of the time from then on, his son very soon sharing the trust I placed in the father. Nonetheless, it was Achâk who inspected the wound on my calf. His manners were cordial, but I knew I would gain his respect and trust the hard way, probably never. I had no illusions about me or life in general – I knew I could not have a bond of friendship with everyone. Still, I was nervous around him from this day on.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

I've woken up early on the third day of our jorney, the coughing and a full nose really giving me no choice but to sit up. The fire was low, but warm where I lay on the ground. My health was deteriorating despite the amount of tea I drank, but I believed the worst was already over. The scarf I've not used for climbing up that spruce tree was wrapped tightly around my neck. I wished for a bed and central heating especially once I've noticed dew clung to the blankets with which we covered ourselves. One man was already awake – sitting at the edge of the circle we formed under one cliff. Ghân had not liked the clouds the previous evening so we searched for a shelter from the rain. It seemed though, that the precaution was unnecessary.

The guard gazed into the dark forest, listening to the chipper of birds that were already waking up since it was half an hour before daybreak. I was sure others would join me in the land of living soon. It was usually the other way round – me sleeping the longest of them all. But despite the long walking, my energy returned with the bigger portion of food I ate. The scouts took their time to hunt too – there was no hurry once we moved away from the general are of the beacons. We passed two more – our camp was located somewhere behind the fifth and before the sixth; perhaps closer to the fifth.

It was hard of me to stomach the sight of skinning a deer when her dead eyes were still looking at us and the following dividing of pieces among us. The smells were not that pleasant at first either. It made me shudder internally. But we did need food and a group of ten or more people that were on their feet from dawn to dusk demanded a lot of sustenance. We roasted, quickly dried or otherwise prepared the meat so it lasted for about a day or two. I was quite fond of the small amounts of prunes, but did enjoy the rich flavour of the meat. Simple dried herbs were all the seasoning we needed. The pouch of salt was guarded like gold though.

I got used to the smell and sight of raw meat (still clinging to the bones of the unfortunate animal). My logic told me I would need to know these things in case anything happened to separate me from civilisation again. My explanation to Ghân that I've never seen a skinned animal was received with curious looks and many questions that I answered to the best of my ability. I did not reveal too much of my world, only what was absolutely necessary although it was hard to keep silent about the things I missed the most. The stark contrast between this and my world only reminded me of what I've left behind.

I was careful with what I ate though – some organs they prepared simply did not sit well with me. I knew kidneys and livers were not actually safe since they might contain bacteria, viruses and parasites. I rather ate the muscles and kept it at that. I did not forget to boil water too. Achâk seemed in better spirits once I began explaining about germs and illness when they asked me about it. A very complicated conversation that lasted for an hour or more, I believe, was the result of my simple comment to one of the questions. It did extend my vocabulary list and the healer was prepared to be more patient with me. But that did not mean he was happy – after all, I did not know how to prepare any medicine I mentioned.

_Sorry, but I really did not see me as a doctor when I was thinking what I would like to be in my life._

I pushed aside the memories, yawned and wrapped the blankets firmly around myself. It was too bloody cold to be leaving their warm comfort anytime soon. I wanted hot tea and something to eat before I would even expose one toe to the air. My hair was no doubt tousled since I've been searching for a comfortable position for quite a while – at least my bruises were healing. They appeared quite gruesome on my hip.

I was the first one to lie down to sleep every night while others were talking around the fire. No doubt they had a lot of things to discuss - it was what they did every evening. Of course the conversations were not as serious as the day of the argument, but nonetheless something they participated in every time. I believe this was their way of dealing with stress; mine was to continue the journal. I tried to write as small as possible, but I knew I would have to find an alternative to paper. Would I write on hides or discover a way to make papyrus? I had time to think of something – thankfully the sketchbook was one of those with very thin pages, thus containing a lot of them.

I searched for a packet of handkerchiefs I had somewhere under the covers. They had to be in one of the coat's pockets, I was sure – the problem was getting to them. I reminded myself I would have to use cotton handkerchiefs in the future, but I was too lazy to stand up and fetch the one I've thoroughly cleaned the previous evening. Only a few days and the cold should be over by then. I was positive my immune system would not let me down.

I finally caught the elusive package and just in time too as I sneezed. The man at last looked at me at the sound. I returned his greeting and rubbed at my eyes to remove the last signs of sleep from them. I heard several other sleeping bundles stir slightly. I was only a matter of time before I would once again journey forward. Warm breakfast, a short chat and endless roads to roam – this was how my days looked like. I could not really complain though.

He turned to me with a request. It seemed I would have to help him prepare breakfast. _There go my plans of staying warm… _I was never treated as a pampered guest – I had to do my share of work too. I knew my load was kept light only because of my health…

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**More about her journey (and destination) in the next chapter. Tell me what you though about the Druedain and how you picture them - i'm eager to know :)**


	13. A Long Way to Go

A/N: Here is the newest chapter - thanks to my beta All-Knowing Alien it's polished up to a fine glow. ;) The updates will be a bit slow right now because of my finals, but no worries - this fic will be completed. The next chapter will move more quickly than this one - that I promise.

Don't forget to leave a note in the end. I'm always curious what you think about the chapter, what works for you and what not.

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Chapter Eleven: A Long Way to Go

**or: How bonds are made**

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I dragged on the coat and zipped it up under the warm covers. The shockingly cold mornings were not good for my persistent cold. The crispness of the air was duly recognized in a series of coughs when a deep breath seared my lungs. It was definitely too early to wake up. My coughs did not seem to wake anyone though. I found it odd, but perhaps the men were just as tired as I had been previously. I looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw that the guard had already moved to the pack with food and now brought it closer to the fire.

_I guess it's my job to bring the kindling then…_

I stretched and worked out the kinks in my neck as I moved quickly to the heap of the wood we had managed to find before dark fell. I loaded a generous amount in my arms and brought it to the small fire. I was glad for the warmth and gratefully turned my palms towards the gentle glow. Everything about the fire pointed out that the guard did not bother to load up it up frequently, and, judging by the amount of ashes collected, the wood was good and burned long. He did not want to use too much of the good kindling, I believed. Several logs were quickly added to bring the flames up again so we could prepare a nice, warm breakfast. I pushed only one end of the branches inside, controlling the fire with ease by inserting or retracting them.

Kwahu – that was the guard's name – joined me again after I'd gotten everything in order. He had been rifling through some packs and I learned that he was looking for the tea the men drank in the mornings. The bag was in his calloused hands now. He gently placed it beside the small collection of mugs (everyone seemed to be in possession of at least one) and started sorting out the meat for breakfast. The pack he had placed beside the fire contained other things too, but he took only the meat. I helped him place the pieces of the meat we did not process the previous evening on sticks and drove them into the ground at an appropriate distance from the flames.

I was glad it was the silent Kwahu who was awake – he was one of the men who were not uncomfortable in my presence. I learned soon enough not all were enthusiastic about strangers, even if I was a defenceless woman and thus no danger to them. Sadly, their experiences with people outside of their tribe were not good ones and it showed, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. Their reserved attitude towards me revealed I was not the only one who had to let go of the past experiences. But even though their mistrust made them keep a distance from me, they always remained polite. And I did my best to avoid making things harder for them once I found out. The way to their trust and hearts was not a very hard one, I imagined. If I was to judge them according to the impression I got of Ghân, they were not very hard to please. I only had to use my inherent curiosity when they talked, and stay as polite and as unobtrusive as possible. That was no problem for I very much disliked being the centre of attention. I have always been the person in the shadows, the prompter at a play, if you like. That did not mean I was a frightened mouse though. I observed people, learned from them and waited for the right moment to speak up, to show I cared. I bid my time here too. I knew they were my lifeline and that they would in all probability let me go my own way in the future. That is the impression I got, at least.

Kwahu and I looked after the meat, letting it get a nice colour before turning it to the other side. The delicious aroma soon woke up the rest of the group. Before I could move away from the fire and take the water-skin, one of them already managed to get a hold of it and disappeared among the bushes in search of water. There was a small stream close by. I was looking forward to the hot drink made of dried berries of some kind. Unfortunately this beverage had nothing to do with real tea. Since we drank it only in the mornings there seemed to be quite a nice amount of the powdered substance left, I noted when I peeked inside the precious pouch once. Achâk rationed it nonetheless. It was clear the men were not happy with the decision, but their grumbles were toned down. They washed their hands with the stale water from their personal water skins and took their shares. We sat on blankets or other clean places and began our day with a warm cuppa.

I swirled the powdered substance in my mug made of some kind of light wood (kindly donated by Ghân) and waited until the bitter particles sank to the bottom. The wooden spoon held a small amount of the dark substance and the tea tasted distinctively watered-down when I took my first sip. The special aroma that I had begun to connect with the men was almost nonexistent. Achâk really did a great job of scoring as little points with me as possible. I respected him, I really did, but he truly tried my patience several times a day with his pointed looks, questions. The other men seemed to share my opinion now – even Ghân was heard complaining about the quality of the beverage.

I could not say the medicinal tea I had to drink several times a day was in any way less potent. Even if such a version was kinder to my taste buds, Achâk would not have been inclined to lower the dosage. It tasted horrible and I had a feeling it got even more repellent with time. I ate up my share of the meat and some nuts and nursed my metal cup with the tea Achâk prepared for as long as I could, trying in vain to keep the time when I would need to drink it up far off in the future. I looked with longing at the empty wooden cup at my feet. Even watered down tea was better than that!

As he was mixing the grounded herbs with water I noticed that the amount of the sickly grey substance was disappearing with amazing speed. I should have been concerned about it since it was the only medicine for my persistent cough, but I was elated to estimate that there was enough for two large cups, maximum. Achâk grumbled, complaining to Ghân about one thing or another when my face unintentionally melted in relief. I would be subjected to the foul medicine only one day longer.

I was quick to disguise my elation with a similar expression – one of gratitude - when Achâk turned back to me. He seemed pleased I appreciated his efforts. Some of the men saw my rapid change of expression though, and tried hard to stifle their amused laughter with coughs. I do believe the healer's question, if they were alright or if they needed a sip or two of the foul beverage, made them laugh even harder. I certainly scored points here.

However amusing this episode was though, I still had to drink the tea. I was tempted for a few seconds to pour it away behind my back, but knew that would be a war announcement to Achâk and probably a great faux pas. To my discomfort, the tea even smelled like it tasted! When Nawat nudged me softly in order to bring me back from my thoughts of how best to approach said problem, I could only grimace at the smell and pointedly look down at the cup in my hands. He suppressed a smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"Drink up…" he said in a tone far too cheerful for my liking. I was quite sure he was familiar with the brew and relished the fact he did not need to take it. I was tempted to show him my tongue in reply, but settled for a wry twist of lips and a shake of my head before I quickly gulped down the beverage. I could not suppress a small shudder and gratefully accepted the water he poured inside my cup to wash away the taste.

It surprised me to note that we had both become quite fond of each other during the long journey. Of course I was a bit weary of pronouncing our good understanding as friendship – it was only a few days since we first met, but a feeling told me that we could become really good friends with time. There were several reasons why I believed this to be possible.

He was very much like his father, I guess, a kind and gentle presence at my side during the trek. Even though our conversations were short due to the language barrier, it seemed we understood what the other wanted to say relatively well. Nawat was more approachable, his personality less enigmatic than that of his father. Ghân was one of those great men you were drawn to, but the reason why eludes your mind repeatedly. There was something about him that made me feel safe and that trait seemed to have passed on to his son. I began to rely more on Nawat once I noted searching looks Ghân sent my way when I least expected them. It felt as if he wished to look into my mind, into my soul. He was searching for something, waiting for me to perform an action, but I was not sure what it was he expected of me. The unsettling feeling I was laid open before him like a book never left and quite frankly scared me. Despite this, Ghân was still one of the people of the group I trusted the most.

The other reason why Nawat became so close to me was his age. I estimated he was just a couple of years older than me and thus in the age range of my friends. He also possessed a mischievous nature that seemed to complement mine quite well. I could never act like the teenager at heart around Ghân. He was too important and I seriously doubted immature actions would convince the other men I was worthy of their protection. Nawat was a different story – we could both laugh and make fun of things together and not one of the men would look askance at us. They sometimes even joined our laughter. I knew any ignorant remark would be received better if Nawat were there to joke back. Thus I was never afraid of saying something utterly ridiculous in their language when we walked close together. I had to learn their language somehow. Consequently, Nawat was the one who taught me a lot of the new things about nature and I tried to return the favour.

What prompted my decision to walk closer to him was also the surprising fact that he never behaved like a guard (as others did), but more like an older sibling taking care of a much younger sister. Very protective, I noted, but not too much and always mindful of my feelings. Nothing seemed to get past him, but that was not really a surprise since Ghân too had the uncanny ability to know what was happening in several different places at the time. Wish I shared this skill …

When everyone had eaten his share, we shook out the blankets and bound them to our packs. Carefully pouring water over the fire and covering the charred remains of the logs with earth, we set out again. As I looked back, there was barely a sign we were ever there. Even if some were left behind, no one could safely predict how many people had rested here. I marvelled at the skill of the men every single day.

The sun was barely strong enough to light up the path and the sky and we were already moving through the bushes. Since I fell asleep early it was no problem for me to walk long distances anymore and my leg got better too. The men, no doubt, woke up at these early hours every day of their lives. But it was quite a strange experience to actually see the sun rise in the east, behind several peaks. Admiring this event became a sort of a daily ritual for me, even if the time I could dedicate to it was short.

My lessons on tracking, plants and animals continued, along with the language lessons. I was grateful for their patience and the ability to distract me from homesickness that seemed to finally hit me really hard. With each day my frustration and the numbing fear that I would never return back to Europe intensified. Even my dreams began to reflect the worries I carried. I was grateful to wake up at the odd sounds for this was the only thing that ripped me out of the frequent nightmares. It was surprising I had enough energy to walk long distances with the sleeping pattern I had suddenly developed. Perhaps the late-night sessions for my studies and active nightlife I had back home with my circle of friends was part of it.

Ghân was not helpful in relieving those fears, I must regretfully point out. The simple explanations he gave me when I asked where we were going and how long he thought it would take for me to return frustrated me with their vagueness. If I had had cause to fear or distrust him, I'm quite sure I would have found a way to return. Days I'd spent walking offered many opportunities to dissect my situation in detail. Numerous questions haunted my mind, but I was afraid of uttering them for fear of saying too much.

_Why are they hiding me away? Why did I pass through the veil between the worlds? Why are there even multiple worlds and portals? How did the books come to my world? __Did Tolkien really write them?__ HOW is this even possible? _

My initial decision to keep my knowledge of Middle Earth to myself was weakening. I desperately wanted to find some sense in my presence here. It would have been nice to believe I was sent here for a purpose – this would have given me some measure of comfort. It would imply I was capable of braving all obstacles, doing something good; that it was not a combination of an honest mistake and bad luck that stranded me here as everything pointed out. I was looking for a purpose to silence the rising doubts and fears. My first encounters with death weighted heavily on my mind, too…

I realised that I had accepted Ghân's explanation and decisions with no major disinclination because I was scared of being alone in this hostile land, because I wanted to trust someone to keep me safe… Doubts made me think again, to look for signs of danger, traps… But the natural reactions to strangers the men showed towards me somehow reassured my mind – they were not pretending to like me if they did not, so they must not have some ulterior motives.

Right or wrong assumption?

Why did then the Gondorians hunt them? What of the other group?

I tried to ask more about the situation in the land, about the conflicts, but realised soon enough this was a sore spot better left alone. Yet I still wondered – torn between my wish to find out more and staying under their wings. I had no idea which time period I had landed in… It was hard to gather any information from the men's conversations, though I became accustomed to their language. Searching for familiar phrases was not as difficult as in the beginning, yet I knew so little. Many words were very hard to explain and the differences in our cultures very soon became apparent. Certain phrases, words, had many meanings that were hard to keep apart or made no sense to me. I was frustrated with the words that sounded the same even if they were telling me they were quite different. I did not seem to hear the mentioned difference no matter what they tried. And I could hardly start teaching them the alphabet and phonetic symbols to help myself... I guess everything demanded more time – time I did not seem to have. Time that never before appeared so precious…

I tried to remember if anything at all was mentioned in the books about the Beacons that would help me narrow down the time period, but I sadly hit a wall here. A frustrated and foreboding thought wriggled inside my mind: _You should have no need to know the year you landed in if you are to return soon. Why do you wish to know?_

I pushed thoughts out of my mind, firmly concentrating on the rhythm of my steps, to the gentle pressure of the pouch at my side, the smooth wood of the bow, the quiver… Nawat was before me, holding branches away from the path for me to pass. I thanked him, but I saw he knew something was troubling me early in the morning. I took a deep breath, stifled a cough and kept walking ahead.

"Everything will be alright, Megan. Don't worry," he said suddenly and I stopped in my tracks, looking at him in surprise. He never failed to reassure me when hope was gone and my mind filled with doubts.

"You are right… just dreams…" I retorted in my meagre vocabulary. It was true though that a nightmare or two lingered on in my mind long after waking up. I did not wish to whinge about how homesick I really was – it felt wrong to behave like that when all they did was help me.

"Dreams are shadows, don't listen to them. The day is bright – all is good," was his reply.

What he meant about dreams being shadows I was not entirely sure, but I knew he hoped I would not pay much attention to them. However, I could not forget what my mind recalled in the night, how it twisted my memories, thoughts. I've never seen someone die and the gruesome scene of the attack replayed in my mind every night. I was surprised I never woke anybody up with my tossing and turning. But the recalled dreams reminded me of something else - the true reason for my growing fear and doubts on this particular morning.

It was something I heard two nights ago when I woke up from another nightmare. I remember I lay motionlessly on my blanket, my breathing shallow. Something must have woken me up just when the face of the killed ranger moulded into the face of my ex and the blood began to bubble up from his lips. They were almost of the same height and shared the grey eyes, so it was no wonder that the face of the unnamed ranger morphed into that of Adrian. The scene filled me with unimaginable horror.

We had a rough break up, Adrian and I. After two years of a very solid relationship he decided we were not meant to be and the fact he found a new girl in two weeks still smarted. I was devastated then, but let him go despite my strong feelings of love. I could see in his eyes it would be for naught. I was still on the road of recovery a year after the event, so I guess this was my mind's way of reminding me of another painful event in my life. Just as I was about to start analysing the disturbing dream and what my feelings (beside love, anger and hurt) were towards Adrian, I heard a shushed conversation at the edge of our camp.

I turned my eyes towards them and barely recognized in the dim light the forms of Ghân and Nawat. One of them must have taken up the post of a guard. I could not make out all the words, not even understand half of them, but the first impression I got of their conversation was not a good one. I might have been wrong, but it seemed to me that Ghân wished Nawat to stay close, keep an eye on me because he feared or suspected something – whatever it was, I did not hear or understand. It was probably connected to my sudden appearance and the fate of their allies – the Native American tribe – that troubled him. Yet there seemed to be more. The question of the purpose of such a connection between worlds rose up in my mind again. However comforting it would be to think my presence here was planned, the thought did not come to me without a dark foreboding feeling in my heart. I was sure Ghân questioned this just as I did ever since I knew of the veil.

It was at that moment that I stumbled over a root on the path. Nawat let out a disgruntled sigh at my right side and I looked up, ripped out of my musings once again and feeling foolish for being so absentminded. He shook his head and gently took my hand to keep my pace up with others. I have fallen slightly behind too, it seemed. I sheepishly let out a small self-deprecating laugh and followed his lead.

"Sorry," I told him once we caught up with the front of our group.

"It's alright. I understand," he said as he released my hand.

And I believed him. His eyes told me he could imagine I was feeling lost and out of my elements and that it was ok to admit this. I guess he could sympathise even if he did not know what exactly haunted me on such a bright day. Nonetheless, he started to point out various things to me again – all in an effort to distract me from whatever seemed to have me in its thrall.

Soon one of his friends joined him and together they pointed out other eatable plants that were to be found. They also showed me prints of various animals that crossed our path and how to distinguish one from another. It was the same every day – the only difference being that I recognized some of the plants and prints now. I tried to remember as much as possible, writing down everything when we took short breaks. They did limit the amount of things they told me for they knew too well that I could not remember everything. But the few lessons in between long treks made me feel better and also offered me some respite from the swift pace Ghân decided on. My coughing intensified when I was out of breath – a fact that was not missed by the shrewd eyes of the healer. Achâk forced me to drink down another cup of the foul tea before midday, which was a surprise. But I guess the dry cough which was normal when I had a cold was making the healer nervous. I guess he feared it could be something dangerous if left untreated. Well, the tea did help my throat, if nothing else. My joints ached, but since this was a constant ever since I landed in Middle Earth, I tried to not pay too much attention to it. Nawat, however, asked for a short stop several times. No one complained though, for which I was glad.

The forest was beautiful here and the path quite good for the duration of the trek until our midday break. The scouts had been sent ahead a while ago so everyone was relieved to get rid off the weight on their shoulders. However, the men remained watchful despite the relatively carefree atmosphere.

"A beacon…" was the explanation given to me by Kwahu, when he passed my spot.

"Already?" I wondered aloud which called forth smiles onto their faces. I was not aware we had moved forwards so fast to be near a beacon at this point of the day - perhaps later in the afternoon, but not at midday.

"The road is good here, Megan. One day more, I wager, and we will arrive at the old shelter," said Nawat as he dug inside his pack for a spare knife he used to prepare food with.

"Old shelter?"

"Yes, my people don't live in these places anymore, but we still remember the old hunting-grounds," he said as he stood up again. His dark hair fell over his bare shoulder and he flicked it away with one hand before he reached out to me. "Come, Megan. Help me prepare our meal," he said. I would have liked to rest but I could not deny his request when he asked so nicely. So, I decided to wriggle out as much information about the secret destination of our journey as possible.

"Can you tell me more?" I asked after I'd taken my knife with me. His eyebrows rose slightly at my eager tone, but he smiled nonetheless when he took the pouch one of the men gave to him as we moved across the camp.

"There is not much to say…" was his reply.

"But what _do _you know?" I demanded in my broken and halting language. I was quite good at forming simple questions. We moved among the small bushes obstructing the view from the small brook, so he did not answer immediately – he always took care to speak to me only when I could hear him clearly.

"It is safe, deep in the mountains… away from danger," he replied as he squatted by the rushing water. He passed me one of the roots the men dug up along the way. It was some sort of a wild carrot, I presumed. He held a few battered onions in his hand too. "You will be safe there."

"From whom?" I muttered under my breath, but he could not understand me since I had switched to my mother tongue. I knew there was more than what they told me and the rangers were the least of their problems. I disliked being kept in the dark. I'd seen too much to be satisfied with half-answers. Had he talked to his father? Decided on how much to reveal to me? I still wanted to know _why_ they were leading me so far away from their homes. Surely they did not think me dangerous? Or was there something about their people I should be aware of that they hadn't told me?

I huffed at that and deftly cleaned the vegetables, my fingers tingling from the cold water. I really hoped we would get something warm to eat beside these roots, but the close proximity of the beacon would probably force them to forego kindling a fire.

"Why aren't we moving toward your home?" I asked Nawat just as I had asked his father. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, I remember what Ghân told me, but still... Why aren't we?"

"You never give up, do you?" he asked and paused chopping the onion.

"I have a right to know…" I muttered and turned away, scraping off the skin from the roots with renewed vigour. I felt foolish to be so nosy, but too many questions had accumulated inside my mind to make me keep silent much longer. _One question – that's all I ask._

Nawat sighed, "I will talk with my father… "

I looked at him with some surprise. It seemed he would try to convince the ever enigmatic Ghân to reveal some things kept from me until now. They knew I suspected there was more – at least they did not think me dumb just because I was a woman. I was glad some of the usual prejudices about natural peoples and the position of their women in their societies were wrong. However, I did not expect he would give in so quickly…

"Thank you," I said with all my heart and relief, both easily heard in the simple words.

"Don't thank me yet…" he replied and stood up. He was careful to warn me I still might not get a satisfying answer. Everything depended upon Ghân – and the other men. Unfortunately (or fortunately) he did not rule over them, they worked together. I had a feeling anything they would reveal to me would include some kind of a trade, but the price was unknown as of yet.

I really had no idea how this thought got in my mind, but I was sure Achâk would have a few things to say before I got my answers. If I knew anyone from the group at all it was Achâk – his character was easy to read. Or so I thought. He would try to get more out of any situation and since he was not overly fond of me… _well, things just might turn even more interesting._

"Do you need help?" Nawat's question ripped me from my thoughts – _again_.

"No. I'm finished," I replied and collected things together quickly. He only nodded and turned in the direction of our camp. My hopes for a hot soup were dashed as soon as they appeared in my mind – we did not have a pot to put over a small fire. The men were satisfied with some roasted meat and raw vegetables though. It was not half that bad – a bit unusual, but not bad at all. Since I cleaned the vegetables myself I knew there would be no nasty surprises to be found and so enjoyed yet another simple meal. It was curious to note they kept a balance between consumed meat and vegetables – my mother would have approved. Unfortunately my hands were smeared when I finished my meal. I grabbed hold of the pre-prepared small towel and a bar of soap I had with me and turned in the direction of the stream. The fruity smell of the soap reminded me of a hot shower or a real bath that I hadn't gotten to enjoy for quite some time. I sighed at that thought…

The fresh scent also contrasted with the smell clinging to my clothes. Frankly, I stank. Stale sweat and dirt are not a nice combination to any nose, but combining this with my elevated temperature during my cold… well, it was not a pleasant experience to sniff at my armpits when I removed my coat even though my nose was half-blocked by mucus.

_Ew… Holy shit! How come no one complained?! Change of clothes – immediately!_

I grabbed the soap and returned to my backpack. The men were cleaning up or sitting around, relaxing. My businesslike approach was noted and many sets of eyes followed my determined steps with curiosity. I know that Ghân stopped bundling up his blanket to look at me when I began digging through my things, muttering softly under my breath what I had to find. I grabbed one bag then put fresh underwear, socks, undershirt and sweater inside. The pile of dirty clothes was steadily growing bigger, but I knew I would have time to clean them only when we would arrive at the shelter – wherever it was. One bottle of shower gel later, I was headed in the direction of the stream.

"Megan… where are you going?" It was Nawat who stopped me just beside the bushes.

"Change my clothes," I replied and showed him the bag I held in my hands. He stepped closer, obviously intrigued by my sudden decision. I had changed my outer clothes several days ago therefore it was clear to me I had to do something for my hygiene (which was not as good as I desired at this time). I did manage to change underwear more frequently, but it seemed he thought that donning fresh things was not necessary.

"Why?" he asked. It was the stupidest question, I thought, but understood he did not know I changed clothes every day at home.

"I stink…" was the blunt reply. I coloured lightly at the admission since he was still a young man and turned my eyes away. He stepped even closer and took a short whiff to my utter mortification. His brows furrowed and he suddenly took my left hand in his larger one. He brought it closer to his face. I looked at him completely baffled, feeling uncomfortable as I noted that several men were looking at us.

"What is this smell?" he asked as he took a whiff of the scent the soap left behind on the skin of my hands and forearms.

Unfortunately I did not know the word for soap, so I took the bottle of the shower gel and opened it, giving it into his hand. He sniffed the lemony scent, his brows furrowing. "For washing the body," I finally explained as best as I could.

His dark eyes settled on me before he grabbed my arm and dragged me to Ghân who looked on the scene with a glimmer of amusement. I had no idea what was going on and my puzzlement must have shown on my face, for several of the men began to chuckle. It was a funny sight, I believe, for I did not go his way without a token of protest in my own language.

"_Father, you won't believe this. I don't know how her people live, but it's clear they don't hunt,_" he said in a rapid torrent of his language so I could barely understand a word he said. _"She intends to scare off the game with this scent – it's unbelievably strong soap of some kind. I don't know why, but she believes she stinks when all that can be smelled on her is stale fire-smoke that masks her true scent from the animals…"_

"_Have you asked if she perchance has to undergo a cleansing ritual of her people before you dragged her here?"_ was the reply Ghân gave him which seemed to surprise Nawat somewhat if his expression was any indication. I hoped the matter was settled, but Nawat was still lightly holding my arm – which bothered me a bit.

"_It is clear she is not used to the forest at all – you know she revealed that her family lives in a big city," said Ghân. "While I understand your concern regarding our dinner, you must learn to expect the unexpected with her."_

"_I did overreact a bit, didn't I?"_ Nawat sighed suddenly before he shook his head. _"But it is dangerous… The scent is very strong and lingers behind. You can smell it spread from her hands, can't you? She doesn't know how to hide at all…"_

I was just starting to get some understanding of the conversation when I saw Achâk rapidly approaching. Whatever the matter was, it would certainly take a long time to be settled if he was to be one of the people sorting it out. I could just forget my plans of a quick wash...

"Do you wash your body many times with this scented water?" was the question Ghân suddenly addressed to me in slow and carefully spoken words so I could understand.

"Every day before I got here…" I replied. Two sets of eyebrows rose in surprise.

"It alerts the animals of your presence. Too strong – use water for now," said Ghân as Achâk arrived. I sighed – how could one tiny bit of soap scare the animals? It did not make much sense at first, but I figured they knew what they were talking about. If everyone in Middle Earth was soap shy, then it could be that the animals would react negatively to the strong smell of my modern lemony goodness. I was still of the opinion that it would not be a problem since any trace of the perfume would dissipate shortly, but let the matter rest. It was not worth fighting over.

"Alright," I capitulated just as Achâk demanded what was going on. I put away the shower gel and turned towards the stream. Nawat's hand upon my arm stopped me. I was getting annoyed. _I just want to get a decent wash, nothing more_, _for god's sake._

"Can I go now?" I asked with an edge to my voice. I really hoped they would not try to inspect my bag too – I would not let them go anywhere near my underwear, this I swore.

"I will accompany you," Nawat announced.

I blinked in surprised before my flabbergasted reply rang out, "Absolutely not!"

Every head turned in our direction, Achâk looking at me with utter surprise. I coloured hard and quickly slipped away through the bushes before Nawat could get a hold on my shoulder again. The look on his face was a study in puzzlement.

Amused deep-throated laughter rang out as I quickly walked towards the stream - Ghân knew why I reacted in this way. He had told me during one of our talks that the men and women of his tribe helped each other to bathe – it was completely natural to them. My surprise at that and the following explanation amused him – I believe Ghân thought my people were too shy for their own good, but obviously had not shared the knowledge with others. I just knew that there would be several sets of amused faces greeting me when I returned. Maybe even some joking… Nawat especially would use every opportunity to remind me of my outburst and shyness. A soft groan escaped my throat when I touched my glowing cheeks…

I quickly went about my business afterwards, partly because it was not a warm day, partly because I wanted to be finished as soon as possible. Few swipes with a damp cloth are sadly not a bath so I looked at the bottle of my favourite scent with longing. It felt good to be rid of the grime though. I was nervous someone would come by despite Ghân's explanation, so I finished in record time. I need not have worried – everyone knew not to approach the stream until I returned. I adjusted the straps of my bra and carefully folded the dirty garments to preserve space in my backpack. It would have been nice to have another dark short-sleeved undershirt, but I had to make do with the burgundy strapped one. I felt cold and exposed in it despite the sweater and coat protecting me from the fresh air.

Just as I expected – the men were still amused when I returned. I did join their laughter after Nawat mimicked the expression I had made at my exclamation. He was simply too funny. After we calmed down I warmed myself beside the small fire and drank a cup of warm water to speed up the process. I put away my things and bundled up under a blanket.

We were at the spot for about one hour when one of the scouts returned. I was just finishing writing about the plants I was shown in the morning when the first man appeared out of the bushes. He moved towards Ghân immediately and a lively conversation was started. The expression on Ghân's face told me something was wrong.

**That's it! Enjoy your day, :D**


	14. New Danger Ahead

**A/N: Yay! Beta-read and reposted. Hopefully it's better now even though I've got some encouraging words about the progress I've made. I promise, Anila, I'll work on the problem you've mentioned :D**

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Chapter Twelve: New Danger Ahead

**or: Could it be worse before it gets better?**

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I stopped writing, my eyes riveted to the man that had arrived so suddenly at our camp. The scouts had never returned in such haste and they had never rushed to Ghân upon locating him among the men either. And then there was the expression on his face that I did not like at all. Worry, even alarm. Something big must have happened - but where was the second scout?

I strained my ears to hear what he had to say. Ghân was listening intently, his brows knitting together with every word uttered by the scout, looking more and more concerned by what he was told. Achâk was nearby, his face too betraying worry. I admit it alarmed me for I'd never seen them like this – they were usually the rock I leaned on and not the concerned men in need of some support themselves.

'_What's the matter? What's going on?'_

The other men too stopped their hushed conversations and listened to the news. They obviously learned more than me. The rapid speech made words blur together into unrecognizable sound patterns. I attempted to stayed calm – at least outwardly, even though I was dying to know what was going on. My eyes darted from the scout to the expressions of his listeners, trying in vain to read their faces for more information. I could feel that I was loosing the proverbial ground under my feet and found myself upon the edge of a knife – I was convinced deep in my heart that something big had happened. The protective circle the men formed unconsciously around our camp made me rise up too. The papers lay forgotten at my feet while I clutched at the ends of the blanket like it would help to disperse the cold creeping into my soul.

What I had understood did not reveal much, but the problem was somehow connected to the beacons… That titbit of information was clear enough, I believed, but I could not guess what exactly was wrong with them. Was it the guards? Or something else on the road that was causing them trouble? I knew not, but the men exchanged few hushed words while the scout finished his report. Whatever trouble awaited us further on our road affected Ghân's plans – at least of that I was sure.

Achâk and Ghân both thanked the man soon after I stood up, and called to their side two of the older hunters. It seemed I would have to ask Nawat what had happened since nobody had bothered to tell me anything. I wished I could roll my eyes in annoyance for I was left in the dark about the problem our scouts had stumbled upon, but I could not – fear being the main emotion directing my actions at the time. I knew that a short and censored version of the report would be given to me much later – probably when they had dragged me away and everything was already under control. As much as I liked to be protected, I wanted to have at least some say in the events playing out. I hated feeling helpless.

It was clear our stay here was over in any case, so it was time to prepare to hit the road again. At least here I was of some use for I could help to pack. If we were turning back towards my home I would have been overjoyed, but I now knew these men well enough to know that it was not an option to them – they would find a new way past trouble on the road. Even if the 'problem' scared them like their faces told me it did.

_Stubborn… Headstrong…My only chance at survival…_

I moved towards Nawat who was talking with one of the younger men in a hushed voice. The small wooden bowl covered with leather and filled with black poison was strapped to his belt and he held one of the smaller bows in his hand. A quick look at other men confirmed my gut feeling that we were in serious trouble. They hid the bowls with the poison (that I was forbidden to touch) during the day in the folds of their clothing, but now they all had them revealed. I could only assume that they intended to use it on their arrows – whoever found themselves at the receiving end had a zero chance of survival. I shuddered and tentatively moved towards Nawat. I was not so sure I wished to know what was wrong. People do say that ignorance can be bliss – I agreed at the moment. However, I wouldn't be who I was if I backed away then, so I moved forward.

Nawat suddenly turned around and made my heart jump in fright as he had whirled around suddenly and without warning. My instinctual reaction was to back away and slightly to the side and consequently I bumped into one of the other men moving around.

"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, and turned around again to Nawat who nodded to the man with two dark beads in his long hair. It seemed their conversation was over.

"Megan," he said and gestured to me to come even closer so his voice could be lowered as much as possible. I could practically feel the tension roll of his dark skin.

"What's going on?" I asked directly, pushing away the last vestiges of the fright and clutching the warm covers around my shoulders. He turned his face towards his father for a second in an almost instinctual move – to get instruction about me, I guess – then gently took me by my upper arm to turn me around and away from the men who were still discussing the events while the scout got something to eat from the leftovers.

"Get everything packed as fast as possible," said Nawat in the same hushed voice he used before. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek as I tried to look at him in the corner of my eye when he hurriedly moved me towards the packs. The strong grip I slowly started to get used to being subjected to made me realise how surprisingly strong he was while being gentle at the same time. I guess I was a bit floored by his handling of my person too – Nawat's people touched each other repeatedly from morning to evening, completely ignorant of many things people from my world would frown upon.

"But whatever is the matter?" I still demanded when he released me beside the packs under one tree. He could see the questions in my eyes, but still seemed to hesitate. _I will not be so easily put aside, damn it! _I thought with bite. They were afraid for God's sake! I had to know!

"Wolves," he said suddenly with a tone in his voice that I'd never heard from him before.

"Whaa… What?" I stuttered, not sure I heard right at first. _Wolves? Here? _But then it hit me like a ton of bricks. There were wolves in _these_ woods – Middle Earth wolves in service of the Dark Lord! _Holy Mother of a… Not those monsters! NO!_

He couldn't be right; not when we were so close to our destination, I thought. I was scared shitless. It was almost even more frightening than facing Orcs. My aunt had been bitten by a dog once and she was scared of bigger canines ever since. I guess I could share her sentiments now – I felt animals were more unpredictable than human-like Orcs. At least I could delude myself that they could be reasoned with or bribed – a big IF, but that was my foolish opinion nonetheless.

"Wolves?" I gulped and from the look in his eyes I knew he was aware I comprehended the seriousness of our situation completely. A small nod was the only answer I got but it felt like I'd been doused with cold water. His dark eyes were like two black stones and I realised he was a warrior now, not the friendly brotherly man I got to know in the last few days. _I have to be strong now too…_ I swallowed the bile fear made rise in my throat and got my weak knees under a semblance of control before I replied in the most controlled and serious tone of voice I could manage. "I see," I said and closed my mouth in a grim line.

Nawat's eyes lost some of their ice. "Go and help pack the things – let _me_ worry about the Wolves," he said. I believe my reaction and impression of control when he knew I was scared shitless made him trust me to be okay alone.

"I will," I replied and he moved away swiftly. I followed him with my eyes for a few moments then balled my hands into fists to prevent them from shivering with the adrenaline flowing in my veins.

_By all that is holy… why was it me that got here? Why not some super muscular Seal or GI for instance?! Wolves! Those big monsters described as super intelligent and malicious in the books! Heaven help me – I will never return back home!_

I could feel tears of desperation gather in my eyes so I quickly began to collect dirty dishes, knives… whatever needed a wash before it could be put away. I had to be alone for a few moments to get myself under control again, even though I felt it was foolish to go too far from the men at the time.

Experience told me that things should have been packed by now if we had not decided to wait for the scouts to return. It was customary for the men to do things right away. I guess everyone wanted a few hours of true rest before tackling the road again, so nobody had bothered to lift a finger until now. Now they were packing their things; one extinguished the fire and began to put dirt over the charred remains of the logs… The four older and more experienced men were still huddled together, talking things through in hushed voices.

In no time at all I had my hands full of wooden mugs, bowls and other things that needed a wash. Good thing I knew how to balance things after my summer job – I was nervous as hell. The path through the bushes was a small challenge I braved with no trouble even though I was prepared to bolt at any suspicious sound. Thus I was once again beside the stream, on my knees, scrubbing with icy water and a piece of cloth as fast as possible, my senses tuned to the sounds of the woods. I did calm down somewhat after a while, before I began to consider the knowledge of the books again. Their contents were never far from my thoughts these days, but I hadn't really concentrated on animals, but Orcs and people. Now I felt foolish – Middle Earth was a place where even animals were important players. How stupid of me!

I quickly let the mugs dry before I could bring them back to the camp, while admonishing myself for my stupidity. Perhaps I should call it naivety. It did not matter, I decided in the end, when I noticed I forgot to take a second dry cloth with me. I had to leave the clean mugs resting on the cloth I'd spread on the ground. I could not hear the men from this location, even though the sound of the rushing water was not loud. This made me nervous again, but the loud chirping of the birds reassured me everything was ok.

_They've put up guards, silly. There's no way they would let you go here if there's a chance of the wolves being near. Don't panic like a city-girl…_

But I was a city-girl and thus packed everything as quickly as possible to return back, feeling safer in their company. The kindling was gone, I noticed – strapped to several packs, the remains of the fire nowhere to be seen. It was like we had never lighted one. A bit of dirt and soil, a few stones and leaves… at first glance there was nothing to be found. Of course, a skilled ranger would find ample of tracks if he searched for them, but it was good enough to fool the eye when one was not looking close enough. I worried that the smell was not so easily hidden though.

To distract myself I bundled up one of the dark brown blankets still lying on the floor and tightly bound it to the pouch I knew belonged to Nawat. He was nowhere to be seen as he, just like some other men I knew, was busy covering our tracks left on the road and around the camp and standing guard. A small symbol was embroidered in the same colour on one end of the blanket, so I knew I'd taken the right one. When I turned to search for him since several men had returned, he was already at my left side. With a word of thanks, he took the leather pouch and slung it over one shoulder. Already carrying his weapons, he was ready to depart. I quickly made sure everything belonging to me was safely packed too before I put my pouch over my shoulder, just like Nawat. My bow was beside the trunk of an old oak, together with my quiver. It was odd to see how different it was from the ones the men carried - bigger and darker, with stiffer wood. From what I'd seen of the men's bows, they used some kind of glue to strengthen chosen areas of their bows. But the most effective weapon they had was poison – a small jar of blackish substance was all they needed to defeat even the strongest enemy. I prayed they would not need to demonstrate how effective it was.

When I directed my gaze towards Ghân, the group seemed to have ended their discussion – the old hunter with an impressive scar on his shoulder nodded to Achâk and turned to those who had gathered together. He quickly divided them into pairs that would walk in a line. I was to stay at the centre, protected by Nawat. It seemed he was satisfied with this, but I had a feeling it would be better to turn around than going forward. I would have never forgiven myself were they to come to harm on this journey.

"Stay close; be prepared for a swift attack," said Ghân. "You know the signs, you know your skills."

The men nodded and the signal to move out was given. Nawat and I silently followed the men in front. For a long time, the journey continued like every day before this one, the only difference being the tense atmosphere and the larger number of scouts sent forth. And no conversation whatsoever, which was a pity for I still managed to find several plants I'd never seen in my life. Being scared did not affect my ability to study the surroundings, it seemed.

So we walked for two hours, every minute appearing to last forever or passing in a second. Then suddenly we were halting again. The men stopped at point where the spring waters had destroyed the road through the years, practically erasing one half of it. A small waterfall still poured water over the stones thus creating perfect conditions for lichens and moss. It was slippery, especially in my new shoes, when I was so used to modern wonders of rubber treads. I got over with no trouble though when the men in front moved forwards. It was here that the first prints of the wolves were found and where one pair of scouts left our group to move closer to the beacon.

"We turn left here," whispered Nawat when we crossed the little stream and turned around the bend. The rest of our group was to leave the road here and not follow it anymore. My gaze lingered on the two men that bravely disappeared down the stone path and closer to danger. Something told me we would be lucky to see them again, but I erased the thought immediately and ignored the warnings my intuition whispered every now and then.

We were going deeper into the forest where it was harder to track a larger group, higher up the mountains. Our feet carried us across a small trail meandering among old pine and spruce trees that grew here with younger birches and elms. It was an easy road for some time; before we began to climb again, that is. I hoped they knew what they were doing for I disliked the sight of the steep slopes and dark woods, the jagged peaks capped with snow. I knew what those roads looked like from experience and did not wish to get lost once again in a maze of dead ends. Nawat himself had confessed they did not live here anymore, how would they know the way for sure? And when wolves seemed to be hunting here to boot?

It was just as I had foreseen, the path was difficult – steep and full of slippery roots, rocks that got in the way. The men tried to find the best routes but it was to be expected that the terrain here was not as good as the old roads. They were made for a reason. Despite the hard road, we continued forward in silence. I dared not complain when my joints and muscles began to ache again, but the pace the men set was hard on me; especially on my sore throat.

We were moving along thorny bushes, slippery lichen-covered stones and who knows what, so I dubbed the path the 'break-your-neck' road of the month, for I felt it was madness to continue forward. I would have turned around long ago, but the men persisted. My deepest gratitude went to Nawat for his help - he came to my rescue every time I stumbled or slipped. The thin leather moccasins were good for covering tracks but a nightmare for the wet and steep conditions of our path. How they moved with minimal mishaps, I would never know, but one thing was sure – I cursed the shoes to hell and back whenever I grabbed for hold at various rocks or trees. The fact that I managed to walk just fine after a while and did not need Nawat's help so often was the only consolation I had. I was not a klutz, but the few times I stumbled or almost slipped made me feel like one.

As I raised my gaze again to judge the distance I had to climb _this_ time, I saw Ghân and several of the more experienced men at the front stopping at a bend in the steep path. They were looking down at something that I and the younger men behind me could not see. There was nothing extraordinary among the dark leafless trees and conifers from our position. Whatever it was, Ghân did not think it important enough for he continued forward after a few moments without any sign to us. Nevertheless, I looked down too once I got to the spot. A group of fallen trees was located several yards away – like someone had purposely cut them down and forgot to move them away on a narrow trail running along the slope later on. They were quite old though, since younger sprouts were growing from the rotting wood already. This was the first sign of human activity in the woods I'd seen (besides the old roads), albeit a very old one. I moved forward with a peculiar feeling in my stomach that I did not seem to be able to shake off.

We finally set camp again when the shadows lengthened. I gulped down my share of water, stretching my legs and toes under a big oak with great satisfaction. _I should feel proud, damn it. I'm no mountain goat and I did just fine on those slopes, _I thought. Everything ached, my scalp itched like mad and I seriously feared I'd caught lice or something similar. It irritated me greatly! I had to go pee too, yet couldn't just disappear in the bushes and do my thing – we had to dig a hole that we all used afterwards. So, I was not a happy camper as I sat under my tree.

We had more guards stationed around the camp than usual because of the wolves. Despite the trouble and the change of plans, we managed to get far again. Ghân seemed to find right paths with the help of his scouts. It should not have been so easy for him to find his way in this maze, but I began to suspect he knew more than he led on.

Dinner was a silent affair after we set up camp and everyone relieved themselves, but I was not in the mood for talk anyway and it suited me that we sat around in silence. So, I was quite surprised when Nawat chose his seat next to me and started up a conversation. He should have known the warning signs of my temper by now. The thunderclouds gathering the entire evening should have been enough to tell him he better stay away.

"We have passed the beacon," he said after swallowing down the meat he was chewing like a piece of gum. I just raised my eyebrow at that, but this seemed invitation enough for him to continue. "It is unusual for wolves to wander these mountains – they are usually in the north. I wonder how they managed to get here…"

"The usual way, I guess," I replied dryly, "on foot."

The comment made him bark out a laugh he quickly muted. "I didn't know you were such a joker, Megan," he exclaimed after he clamed down and stopped shaking in mirth. The men did not seem to be too happy about the level of noise he produced, though.

I caught the gist of what he tried to tell me and grimaced while ripping off another bite of the meat. "Obviously," was my reply as I tugged at my hair – again. One spot itched like mad.

He seemed to realise I was not in the best of moods and my huff of exasperation as I couldn't stop my scalp from itching a few minutes later made him put aside his dinner and turn towards me. "Let me look what's gotten caught in your hair or you'll drive _me_ mad," he said and tugged at the braids keeping my hair contained.

"Nawat," I protested, "you don't…"

"Shut up and let me sort this out," he said and batted away my hands. "You have a comb nearby?" he asked, so I gave him the desired item. It was useless arguing with him.

His fingers quickly undid the braids and removed some of the usual things that got caught in them, but this was not what made the skin itch this hard; it was the urgent need for a good wash. I could never go without washing at least once a week as my hair turned greasy at the roots. But somehow I had a feeling this was not the only reason for my scratching this time – it was most probably (to my horror) something small and blackish.

Taking the comb in his hands, Nawat quickly got rid of the few snags before he started to part the hair so he could get to the skin. It was the moment of truth. "Ah, I should have known," he said and I internally winced when he produced the evidence. It really was lice.

"Damn…" I cursed. "I haven't got them since I was six years old!"

He was surprised. It was then that I saw two other men scratch at their scalp, something I had not noticed in the previous days. I should have known something like this would happen. We slept close together at the night to contain warmth. _ARGH! Stupid, stupid Megan – they have families and where there are small children, there are lice. Or the other way round…_

"Great," I grumbled as he continued to comb through my long hair with patience, "Where are my scissors?"

"Scissors?" Nawat repeated the unknown word while moving towards my ears where more of the nits were bound to be located if what my aunt (who worked in a kindergarten) told me was true. With my luck, it was.

"Yes, scissors. I have to cut my hair," I told him with bad grace. It had taken me years to grow my hair to this length. I felt really bad about loosing it even though it would be practical to keep it short. But somehow my vanity did not make me consider the thought with anything other than annoyance, regret and anger. It was _their_ fault, I thought as I looked at the two possible culprits.

"Why would you do that?" asked Nawat with surprise clear in his voice.

"But how else will I get rid of them?" I asked him. My mother chose a short hairstyle for me when I was still in the kindergarten and it made getting rid of the little monsters much easier. It was no doubt Grandmother's idea – she was the practical one in the family. No wonder I only had long hair after hitting puberty, I thought.

He smiled at me and turned my head back around, so he could attack another portion of my scalp. "Nothing water and a good comb cannot manage, Megan," he said, "It would be foolish to cut such beautiful hair."

"Erm… thank you." I was surprised at the praise for my friends had encouraged me to get a new haircut for a long time. Something stylish and fun, they'd said, would be good for me. I guessed they wanted me to turn a new leaf in my life, so to speak, after my break-up with Adrian, and in their opinion having a new haircut was just the first step. I disagreed, apparently, but went out more often in the weeks following our separation. That shut them up for a while.

"What about them?" I asked and motioned in the men's direction.

Nawat shrugged, "They'll take care of it when we arrive. I just hope I didn't get any," he muttered and I had to stifle my laughter at the grumpy tone. It seems he was not so keen on getting them himself even though he attacked my head with relish. Was this some ritual or custom of theirs I did not know of? But I knew for a fact that the long hair they sported did not make get rid of the little monsters easier.

Ghân approached us, a small smile playing at his lips. "Ah, busy nitpicking," he remarked and sat down a few steps away from me. I just raised my eyebrow at that for he usually sat much closer. Couldn't fault him though – I would have done the same had I known about those two. I sighed internally and held my head at an angle for Nawat.

"Is something wrong, father?" he asked as he wiped the comb after dousing it with water from my flask.

Ghân's brows knitted together, "Yes. The scouts still haven't returned," he said.

"They will come," comforted Nawat in his warm voice. "It's still a while until dark."

Ghân did relax minutely. It seemed he wouldn't close an eye until all of his people were accounted for. Wolves were a serious threat and not only for their fangs and claws – they were often companions of Orcs and other unsavoury creatures of Middle Earth. He was entitled to his worries. "Yes, but if they don't appear until nightfall, we will have to move forward without them in the morning. You know I could never look into Rayen's eyes and tell her I've left her husband behind."

"I couldn't do that either," replied Nawat with a sigh.

"One of the scouts is married?" I asked them, as we'd never really talked about this topic. They generally explained things about their culture in general terms. I was curious.

"We all are, except the youngest, Awan," replied Ghân and I had to lock my teeth together to prevent my jaw from dropping in surprise. They never talked about their families – at least I did not catch that with my limited vocabulary and knowledge of the language. So only the young man carrying my backpack was single... _Wow._

"You never told me," I exclaimed, waving my hands in agitation. I really had no idea and felt even worse about putting them in danger. It would have been surprising indeed to contemplate their marital status when we had other things to worry about, so I never wondered. It was clear that the elder ones had families, but it was odd to know Nawat had a wife too. He was like one of my friends and none of them were married – yet. "Do you have children?" I asked the next logical question for I doubted their women waited to have a career first and a family later.

"A son; he is three years old," he said, love and pride heard clearly when he mentioned his flesh and blood. "What about you, Megan?" he inquired as he continued to comb through my hair. "You didn't tell us a lot about you."

"Me?!" I turned to him with surprise. "No, no. I have no children," I hastily told him. My plans for the future did not feature children soon – perhaps in eight or ten years. But since I was on the 'market' again, the thought was pushed even further aside.

"But you surely have a husband or someone you would like to bind yourself to," he prodded. Ghân chose to remain silent on the matter since my answer on the topic of children told him quite enough.

"No, our women marry later – when they're twenty-six or so and have children even later nowadays," I explained. "And no, I don't have a lover waiting for me…" _At least not anymore._

"Ah," he remarked and the conversation about marriage was closed. I did ask him more about his son though, it interested me and Nawat was more than happy to oblige by sharing his memories. But all this talk of children reminded me that I had completely forgotten to take the pill the last few days.

_Drat! Is it too late to take one now?_

The question made me aware of another problem – my monthlies. I have always had strong cramps in the first days so pain-relievers were a blessing; I couldn't possibly function without them. Two pills a day and I was as right as rain. Now, I was more than aware that my stay here was getting prolonged by the hour, so the possible complications when the stack of modern medicine would run out were something I had to think about. I could only cross my fingers that my periods would stay regular without the pill – I had been horrendously irregular before them. A small spark of hope that I would return before this could become an actual problem lingered in my mind, but its glow got smaller with each day.

While I tried to remember what I had in line of female hygiene and medication, the scouts finally arrived. Ghân was more than satisfied with this, but hid the majority of his emotions to not injure the pride of the men, I believe. Thus we could go to sleep with one worry less on our minds – yet, the threat of wolves did not make it possible for me to give in to Morpheus' call easily. When morning came and we set out again, I was tired but satisfied we were moving away from the dark woods and toward our destination. The journey was too long and I itched to arrive already.

"The scouts did not find fresh tracks of the wolves, but old ones that the guards of the beacons inspected, too," explained Nawat as we followed other men across a small stream. "It is quite possible several soldiers are in the forest, but we have yet to find signs of them."

"Did the scouts see them yesterday?" I asked, worried.

"No. But we better move quickly though," he replied gravely. My mind projected an idea, feeling we were being herded somewhere, surrounded from all sides by enemies. Was this how the Fellowship felt when they set out? It was clear to me that the Gondorians had more than enough people stationed here to find us – eventually. I could never forget the Ranger who had followed me like a bloodhound.

"Yes, I'll be happy to leave this place behind…" I muttered and moved the hair obscuring my face away. I had just gathered it together in a high ponytail since I knew it was useless braiding it when I would only mess it up by scratching. _Damned lice! _"I have no desire to see them again."

Nawat did not comment so I believe he shared my sentiment.

The day passed like any other, except the path we took was much more difficult than before. Still, Ghân and his men found their way and safely brought us past the beacon stationed at the edge of Firien Wood. I could not see it, but we were above it in the early afternoon. Our journey led us upwards and into the cleft where the Mering Stream flowed from. It was somewhere along this deep and dark cleft in the mountains where one of visitors had hidden himself years ago. I disliked darkness, so I hoped the dwelling we searched for was located in a friendlier place.

I also disliked the forest – it was creepy. I did not know much about it, only what April told me – it was here that Eomer, king of Rohan, renewed the oath of Eorl, whatever it was. Why and how, I did not know, but the knowledge that good things happened here, or would happen, was enough to give me at least some comfort and painted the silent forest in a better light. Nonetheless, I pledged to never wander inside these woods. A promise I was unable to keep in the end.

Nawat turned to me when we took a short break – we had been climbing for an hour – "Horse-lords control this beacon," he said and indicated the direction of the hill where it was stationed. I almost blurted out my stupid question if we were in Rohan, before I bit myself on the tongue. I couldn't control my face though – he knew then for sure I was aware of more than I let on. His face hardened, before he relaxed and I felt like a stupid bint for betraying myself and also for misleading them. But they did not ask directly, I argued and defended myself.

"So that is what my father noticed," he said in a low voice.

"You never asked," I said but knew my argument held no strength. He knew that too, no doubt. I didn't know where to look in discomfort, but at the same time told myself to stand behind my decisions. _Remember what you decided, what danger you can bring to these people if you tell too much! You've hurt them once – don't do that again._

"I am not angry," he replied.

"Good," I sighed as I looked at him again. It seemed he could not decide between being slightly hurt at my secrecy and understanding my decision and approving of it. We were pretty close and the last days only helped to deepen our bond. It seemed I had damaged that and it hurt, even when I tried to reason with myself that I barely knew him and that what he thought of me should not count. But it did count – more than I was comfortable with. They helped me, protected me. I depended upon them and began to regard them as good companions.

"I don't know much and am not sure I'm allowed to tell what I know. You understand that?" I asked, needing to clarify things before it was too late. He nodded and patted me on the shoulder.

"My father will talk to you, if you wish," he told me and I agreed with relief. It would be good to get things clear once and for all. But even when I confessed to hold knowledge about Middle Earth, I had no intentions to tell the tale of the fall of the Dark Lord. There was still the problem of the timeline and the books. How did they get to my world and how I came here – these things could change everything. What if Sauron was still alive? What if the books are wrong? What then?

I was glad to be walking again afterwards so I could sort out my thoughts. So I was more than surprised when our scouts took a long time to return because they couldn't find the path towards the dwelling. Night approached when we arrived at the winding and almost non-existent hidden path at a collapsed wooden building located before a fairly big rock shelter.

"Oh," was the only thing I could think of saying at the sight. _Is this supposed to be a place where I would be safe?_

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**Don't forget to leave a short note :D**


	15. Handprints Made in Red

**A/N: And a quick update since I managed to write four pages in one day. YAY! :D Finally moving along towards scenes that popped into my head at the very begining of the story. I do hope I'll get a review or two since I've been such a good girl. ;)**

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**Chapter Thirteen: Handprints made in Red**

**_Or: What happens when the truth is revealed_ **

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I turned around again, tucking the blanket tighter around my back, but it was of no use – I could not sleep. It was not the hard floor, the cold air or the sounds of the night that kept me wide awake when all but the guards slept for hours. I could feel the muscles in my legs protest at the movement, desiring rest, and my eyelids falling shut heavily whenever I opened them again. Despite all this, despite my body's loud cry for rest, my mind fought sleep tooth and nail.

In a slow roll I turned on my back and tucked my hands under the blanket. I could look at the canopy of the tree I lay under and on my left side the night sky with its myriad of twinkling stars. There were no clouds or a full moon obscuring their glow and I could almost imagine I was gazing at the Milky Way. Of course, there was no such thing as Big Bear constellation or any other I was even slightly familiar with; a fact that did nothing to help settle my rampant thoughts. My head was full with internal chatter, impressions and worries of all kinds. Somehow I could not switch it off like every other day.

I sighed loudly and saw the guard turn towards me before focusing on the dark forest again. The small fire we've set up was just a collection of glowing embers that flared to life with the wind. The scent they released had a special fragrance I could not place – perhaps it came from the pinecones we threw in.

_What does it matter if it is them? Sleep_, I grumbled, but could not follow the command. My eyes were drawn to the remains of the hut I could barely discern in the dark. I had been dismayed at first for I could hardly imagine this was once a house or hut of any kind. It would have looked better if only the rock shelter with wild bushes were there. The presence of human activity and the sorry remains of their work gave the entire place a sense of gloom and failure I could barely look at. But perhaps it was my dashed hopes which hurt the most.

"Megan, go to sleep," I heard Nawat mutter at my right side as he turned around. The poor guy was probably half mad with fatigue and my insomnia did not help him catch up with sleep either. I know _I_ felt like going crazy from my inability to shut off and forget about everything for few sweet hours.

"Will do," I answered him, but couldn't keep my promise for an hour at least. Well, I did try to stay in one position long enough to let him fall asleep before turning around again. Many things bothered me about the place, so I started to construct a list as one last attempt at finding sleep.

The first point was the utter wildness – overgrown trees and bushes, ivy climbing the stones and the ruins, moss and lichen covering the ground around the stream which appeared to be as untamed and wild as the mountains it originated from. I had walked the forest and slept under bushes, but somehow I felt this place appeared wilder than anything I've ever seen before. Nature erasing men's presence made me feel so small and insignificant that chills ran down my spine. Trees too appeared wild and forbidding with their heavy boughs growing close to the ground. The bushes had more thorns than leaves on their wildly twining branches which had overgrown a small wooden fence amid them. The place appeared to get very little sunlight since it was already located in the upper part of the cleft, but the tall trees and the steep and rocky hill where the rock shelter was created looked like they stole the little bit of sun the clearing would normally get. I was a person who thrived in sunlight – _this_ was not a place for me.

The second point (or maybe third – I could hardly keep count) was the size of the place and the path leading to it – no matter how safe it was supposed to be, I felt trapped. Even the unknown parts of the forest appeared opener and filled with places to run away at any sign of danger. Here I could only imagine covering and hiding among one of those bushes. Not an option with wolves and orcs, I reminded myself. It was a place made for fighting, for guerrilla combat for there was nowhere you could escape to. Unfortunately, I was not a soldier, nor a rebel.

_Which brings me back to the question - what am I doing here?_

Somehow Ghân found out I held knowledge of Middle Earth. Perhaps that was the reason he brought me so far away from his people and from all civilisation. However, I could not imagine why knowing something about this cursed place would make me so dangerous. Couldn't he just send me home? Or did he imagine I could help him in some way? It was clear he wished to keep me out of the Ranger's hands, which was fine with me, but secluding me in middle of nowhere was a tad bit too much.

The talk he promised to Nawat was both something I desired and feared. It would be the only chance I would have to get to the bottom of things at last. I trusted them long enough, but it was time I found out what was going on and why in the world it was me who landed here from all people possible. Something was definitely not right. I swore to not let this chance slip from my hands and to wring out as much as possible from the elusive man. My language skills were not as brilliant as I wished they were and misunderstandings could turn out to become lethal. Achâk was certainly not fond of me and willing to do anything to protect his people. But I could not begrudge him that for I would probably react the same about my friends if the situation were reversed.

I shook my head lightly at the amount of trouble I found myself in. Achâk might very well skin me alive if he ever realises I had lied about something he thinks highly about… but I had every intention of keeping things to myself. _Tit for tat, you know._ Ghân was more mysterious than the damned Mona Lisa with her eternal smile.

A persistent itch at my scalp only soured my mood further. _Damned lice!_ I couldn't wait to get rid of the little monsters. I was sure it was them who kept me up and not my nerves. Well, it is always better to blame someone beside yourself, isn't it? But I couldn't possibly scratch at my scalp like mad even if that was my most heartfelt desire at the moment. I had to sleep and let others get their rest too. Which was quite a problem, apparently…

I scowled at the night sky that appeared as dark and peaceful as ever and tried to ignore the itching and fatigue. Maybe meditating would help solve my problem – April always fell asleep in her yoga class when she tried to meditate properly. Maybe that would do the trick… Somehow thinking about yoga did not achieve what I intended – I was wide awake since memories filled my mind. I missed everyone so much - my family, my friends… I missed the civilisation, the food; I even missed the obnoxious music that I normally couldn't stand.

When my gaze landed on the dark heap that was once a hut, I wondered if whoever built it ever slept under the tree, looking at the sky just as I did. Did he too miss his home and counted the days to his return?

Imagining how the life of the reclusive person looked like, I finally nodded of into first dreamless sleep since landing in Middle Earth. Thank god for small blessings…

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

"Megan… Megan…" I heard someone hiss into my ear. The birds were chirping quite loudly and there was the sound of many footsteps around the camp. However, it was still too early to wake up, I thought half asleep - even if breakfast was ready as my nose informed me.

"I'll take the blanket away if you don't wake up right now…" threatened Nawat, but I could hear laughter in his voice. _Damn… _I thought and groaned. How could he see every situation as one big joke? How did he manage that? It was too bloody early for that…

"Come on, wake up. I won't need to drag you out, will I?" he tried again, this time tugging at my warm blanket and exposing me to sunlight. It was later than I thought, if the harsh light hitting my close eyelids and painting everything red was any indicator. Apparently the old reflex of covering my head in the morning to block out the sun was still working and I had managed to sleep longer than usual. No wonder after I couldn't get rest for the first half of the night. I firmly grabbed the corners of my warm blanket and pulled it back over my eyes. I was still to tired to get up – or too lazy.

"Just a while longer…" I begged. Nawat sighed and grumbled something, but finally left – or so I thought when I snuggled deeper into the warm cover and almost nodded away. But he came back not a moment later with sweet smelling piece of deer meat which he put almost right under my nose. I must confess my stomach fell for the trick hook, line and sinker. The late dinner was not enough to silence my stomach the previous evening and hunger gnawed at me immediately once I got a whiff of food. He knew that for we all went to bed more hungry than sated. _Oh well… I guess I can get up now._

"Ok. I'm awake," I yawned, knowing when I was defeated, and started to stir. Once something woke me up, it was difficult to fall asleep again. That is, if I wasn't too tired and I could definitely use another half an hour of sleep, but I guess one cannot have everything.

"Good morning," greeted Nawat with a smile as I unravelled from the blanket slowly while blinking at the sunlight. It was too bright! I only opened one eye to look at him as I got into a sitting position and nodded wordlessly before reaching for the breakfast he brought with one demanding hand. I wouldn't beg since he brought it here for me. His smile only got larger as he handed the small bowl over. I didn't care one bit what he thought of me – I was hungry and sleepy and therefore almost disregarded my manners.

_Mmmm…delicious_, I almost melted as the smoky flavour hit my tongue. I could get used to this.

Silent laughter made me open my eyes again and look at the person it originated from. Nawat was shaking his head and chuckling as he sank down on one of the blankets still lying around. I had obviously been the last one asleep since nobody was to be seen at the blankets spread on the ground. Only a tent, several tons of sand and some camels and I could easily pretend to be in the Sahara. Well, the fresh green on the bushes and trees shattered the illusion quite effectively.

"What is so funny?" I asked as I bit into the hot grilled meat. I didn't know what he saw this time to make him snigger, but it was certainly connected to me or the unusual wake-up call.

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest," he informed me and I reached with a tentative hand to pat at the wild strands. It really did feel like it was sticking up in all directions, which was quite a feat with its length. I winced and removed my hand, before continuing with the breakfast as if nothing was wrong. Nawat did know by now I was fastidious with my hair and it must have looked like fright for a few days now. I needed a decent wash – in the _very_ near future.

I gave him one of my I-am-not-amused looks and devoted my whole attention the breakfast. I couldn't do anything about the hair, could I? So I did not need to be bothered about it, right? _Tell yourself that two more times and maybe you'll believe it, Meg._ I did not reach for a comb, I swear but I might have patted it down a bit.

As I munched at the meat and Nawat busied himself with his bow and arrows, I finally spotted two of the men. They could be seen at the remains of the hut, obviously inspecting what remained of it and of the things buried underneath the collapsed roof and walls. I guess they've gotten into the stone shelter somehow and have been hidden from my sight as I woke. What could be salvaged of the things left behind I had no idea, but it was reasonable to inspect the remains nonetheless. Who knows what marvels can be hidden underneath the rubble, but I thought this inspection to be a bit risky too – haven't animals inhabited the place? It was a good spot for nests and dens, I guess – there was enough nooks and crannies to hide. And the heap of rotten wood did not look too solid either - it appeared to me to be likely to move at a wrong step.

Several wooden pillars still stood but were in a rather bad shape since nobody had painted them with protective lacquer or paints it seemed. I did decide to take a closer look after I washed and changed my clothes. _Washing the big heap of laundry might be a good idea, too._

"So?" I asked Nawat with a raised eyebrow, "Where are the others?" I was really curious. I know I've heard many footsteps before I woke up.

"Ah, two went hunting, father is searching the surroundings for anything useful with the scouts…" he said and furrowed his brow, "Achâk and Awan decided to bathe and clean their clothes, if I am not mistaken. Which is a good idea by the way – we should go to the stream shortly," he told me and continued to inspect the arrow-heads.

I nodded and swallowed the last piece of the meat. "Kwahu and Chogân are searching the remains…" I remarked. A grunt was the only reply to my observation, but I had hoped he would tell me what they were searching for as they seemed to be determined to turn the heap upside down. I was impressed I managed to sleep through the noise they were producing when pulling out pieces of rotten wood. But I was curious enough to ask him if he did not offer information himself. Nawat was an intelligent man – he knew exactly what I had desired to find out with that remark.

To distract myself, I looked at the surroundings which appeared much better in daylight. The tress did not take away the sunlight as I had feared, and the rumbling of the stream had a calming affect on me now. It was a secluded spot which might have appeared quite nice and inhabitable when under proper care. However, it still did not grow on me as a possible hideout. I really wished I could speak to Ghân – I had to return back as soon as possible. I hoped the matter would be settled quickly. Unfortunately, things did not comply with my wishes or plans.

Nawat and I had washed ourselves with the cold water of the stream at a secluded spot, he standing guard when I stripped of my clothes and quickly soaped with the wonderfully scented gel before washing it away. Naturally I moved to the spot behind the bushes when it was his turn. I was a bit cold so moving around a bit was good to warm up. We only washed our hair together. I had pulled on a T-shirt I didn't mind getting wet then let him pour water over my head as I knelt on the mossy ground beside the stream. Nawat was really wonderful as he helped me get the lice out. I hoped they would suffocate when I applied shampoo, but knew it would take more to get rid of them definitely. The men knew of some plants that could be used, but they weren't growing yet – it was too early.

Well, I got the honours of helping him with his hair too. Once he saw with what ease he could comb through my hair because I used the shampoo, he asked me to apply some to his and I gladly did. There quite a few tangles I helped him get rid of, but I must admit he really had hair that no woman in her right mind wouldn't be proud to possess. It was really unfair how men had long hair with ease. I only had to think of a few acquaintances I had in the metal scene through one of my class mates.

With a towel tightly bound around my head, I washed my dirty clothes and underwear. With a bit of soap I was able to get rid of the worst grime, but couldn't get it as clean as if it were put into a washer. And many of the stains were really dried up. I could scrape most of the dirt off, but sometimes a smudge was left behind even after applying soap directly onto the area. It was heavy work for I was not used to hand-washing and the cold water made my fingers quite numb. Nawat seemed to be comfortable with the work and I guessed the men did their laundry when away from the village. Thank god I was not as incompetent with house chores as I was with staying safe!

We took the laundry back to the camp and hung it on a long rope Achâk and Awan had tied between two trees that stood at the edge of the clearing. I could not hang my underwear on the rope without clothespins, but let it dry placed on the branches of a nearby bush. Fortunately, Nawat did not ask about the underwear or look at it long. Only my closest friends and boyfriend ever saw my knickers, so it was a bit strange to be placing such a private garment on a bush for everyone to see.

Awan was helping Kwahu and Chogân search through the rubble and it seemed they've found some things that were still useful. Achâk was seated beside the fire, looking through his pack with herbs. He had pinned his wet hair at the top of his head with a couple of wooden sticks he had in abundance for he used them to prepare his drinks with them. The ones used were discarded into the fire – I was told such was the custom because the healing powers would otherwise abandon the herbs if prepared in any other way. He had quite a stock of the sticks and he could be seen making new ones in the evening with a knife.

I was once again combing my hair to get air to the wet strands when Ghân returned with the men. Apparently theirs was not just a scouting expedition but a hunting party too. They brought a couple of rabbits for our lunch and even some vegetables. However, that was not all – they also carried strange bundles with them. Before I could even volunteer my help with the preparation of our lunch, Ghân called me away. It seemed he had decided to have our talk wile others would take care of the rabbits.

Ghân lead me a couple of steps away, enough to be out of the hearing distance, so that our conversation would remain private. I was grateful for that – it would have been harder to explain and tell the truth with so many armed men around. At least so I had a feeling we were talking like equals, even though he had far more power than I did.

"I believe this is something we should have done a long time ago," said Ghân as he gestured at a fallen log for me to sit down. We could look each other in the eyes and relax. I was nervous, but I managed to nod in confirmation. I really hoped I'd get my answers from this, so I tried to be as cooperative as possible.

"You know of our world," he stated and looked me in the eyes. Again I nodded and he seemed to digest the information. No doubt, since he suspected this (how long I had no idea), he had to decide which question he should ask first. I did not know myself what to ask him for the ones I had all appeared important and worthy of being the first.

"But there is a reason you did not mention this," he again said in a tone that told me this was not a question but more of a confirmation of what he had come to realise.

"Yes," I told him the truth.

"Yet you knew nothing of the entrance?" he asked and seemed to be very perturbed about it. The tribe that guarded the entrance was gone, but then I stumbled here by some ill chance, somehow having knowledge of the world I should know nothing about. This must have worried him the most, I believe.

"No," I answered, "I did not know there was one." He seemed to believe me at least, but I did feel uncomfortable when his eyes bored into mine for a few moments. I tried to find the words to explain this mess, but failed a few times, "It's… Shit, how can I…? Well, there is a story…" I began, but then tried to think of a way to not blurt out things that might even come to pass or already past.

I sighed and tugged at my shirt. _Attempt number two…_"There is a well-known story about a world called Middle Earth," I said and felt this was a good start. "It describes some of its people and land… and that is how I've realised I'm here. I did not even know I was in Middle Earth until I was ambushed by orcs, you know. There are no such things as orcs where I come from," I started to explain nervously. "But there are many stories with orcs, but not so many with beacons and orcs… you know?"

Ghân nodded with a smile at my nervousness and I relaxed – he believed me it seemed. "So, this story told you where you are?"

"Yes. I was shocked – I couldn't believe it, but everything pointed out I am in this story's land. I still cannot believe it completely…" I trailed off and looked at the camp - the men very busy at the fire. "I don't even know how the knowledge of this land came into mine…"

"You don't?"

"No. It's impossible," I told him. "The story was written down about sixty years ago by a white man – one from a tribe like mine, not the tribe that came to visit you before. It's impossible – they would not have betrayed such a big secret to him, to anyone, or people would have come here already. I am the first one of white people am I not?" I asked him.

"You are," he confirmed, "The first one to come after a few generations with no visitors. And the Eye of the enemy is already searching for you," said Ghân with a worried face turned towards the East. My gaze snapped from a stain on his clothing I had unwittingly detected to his face instantly.

"Eye…? Did you say eye?" I whispered with my eyes widened in fear and disbelief. Was Sauron still alive?! Did I come to Middle Earth before the war began? NO! It couldn't be! Please it couldn't be true…

"You know of the Enemy…? Of Sauron?" he asked me with sharp eyes, looking at me like he wanted to drill a hole into my brain and look at my knowledge himself. He appeared quite alarmed that I knew so much and recognized a synonym for their greatest enemy – the Lidless Eye of Sauron. I had to wonder what he thought about the story I read about Middle Earth to react like that. Were stories who talked about Sauron always very tragic in his tribe?

We were looking at each other for some time, neither saying anything. I felt this was one of those moments that can change your life completely and the feeling really made me tense. At last I gulped down my own apprehension and nodded that _yes_, I knew of their Dark Lord. Ghân closed his eyes as if in pain and I watched him with a strange feeling in my stomach. What had happened to make him so afraid? What things did the story of the Lord of the Rings never tell about? I did not really wish to know…

"Can you bring me back home, please?" I asked him in a small voice, having no other wish than to get back home this instant. This was too much to take in… to much for me to deal with. There were no magical evil spirits back in Europe. Well, now I at least hoped there were none because I could hardly imagine what I would do otherwise. Seeing orcs really changed my perspective.

Ghân shook his head, his eyes showing me he understood my wish completely, yet he could do nothing to help me in this matter. "He is searching for you. Once the gate opened, magic called out to him, called to all beings of power in Middle Earth."

I gapped at him - surely I must have heard wrong! My arrival was announced with a big gong so that everyone knew where to look for me?! So that every possible dark creature and wizard could hunt me down? Was that the reason for that Ranger's behaviour? For the presence of orcs?

"All of them?!" I managed to squeak out as I jumped to my feet. I knew very well how long the list of evil beings of Middle Earth was – I had spent several days remembering them. I tugged at my hair, panic setting in. I could really start to feel how adrenaline slowly spread through my veins and anticipate the rush of blood in my ears… I felt like eyes were set upon me, like everyone was just waiting to pounce, to use his chance to destroy a traveller from another world.

The conversation at the camp stopped, their laughter abruptly cut short at my exclamation. They had heard my fear and incredulity and possibly wanted to find the reason why. But I didn't care I was getting loud and disrespectful – I was scared to death.

"Yes," replied Ghân who was still in possession of his wits while I began to pace nervously with a shaking hand lifted to my temple. This was _not_ good – this was a catastrophe! What could I possibly do? "Many are searching for you now; this is why we always hid the travellers. Do you understand now why we had to come here?" he asked me when he stood up and blocked my path in a vain attempt to calm me down.

"Yes," I answered and stepped around him to nervously look at the forest, "But… can't I go home? Can't I just… just return back? Surely enough days have passed for them to move away? To plant false trails?" I asked him, trying to reason with him. I really did not belong here and he knew it.

"No. I'm afraid not," he told me nonetheless. "You cannot return yet. Everyone sent here has a purpose to fulfil, a duty to perform."

I turned around in alarm again. "What duty?" I asked him with a flicker of panic inside my heart. I came here by accident! I was not sent here on some errand and neither did I have an idea what I could possibly be doing in Middle Earth besides getting hurt, ill or find death. I _had_ to return back. There was no duty!

"That is for you to find out. You cannot return until it is done. I am sorry," replied Ghân with genuine remorse. My reaction did move him and I could safely claim to be overwhelmed, utterly shocked and lost. I couldn't believe my ears, couldn't accept the truth that almost all my worst fears seemed to turn into reality. I could literally see my world crumble before my eyes, see my hopes dashed with one single word - _No_.

"But… I can't stay here!" I exploded once I recovered from the first shock. I was so out of my elements that I reacted in a fashion that would have shocked all my friends and relations. There was none of my level headiness, no calm and rationality just pure instinctive reactions. I cared not one bit about what was right or wrong – I wanted to go home, I wanted him to tell me he was wrong and that I could turn around this instant. A thought that there were possibly certain laws for travelling through the veil was trampled down and discarded. I demanded to return back.

"What about my family? I don't know anything about surviving here! I can't stay in Middle Earth – it's too bloody dangerous!" I screamed at Ghân who wanted to placate me, but I did not listen, I was too angry, too scared to listen to reason. I've never felt like this in my life and I completely fell apart, my fears only fed by my knowledge and scenes of horror. "What could I possibly achieve here?"

Nawat suddenly appeared, grabbing me around the shoulders and turning me into his chest, effectively trapping me in his strong embrace. I broke out in furious tears, snapped at him, raging about the injustice of it all. I never asked to be sent here; I rarely travelled abroad, god damn it!

"NO, let me GO!" I screamed furiously. I wanted nothing to do with them – why couldn't they have just taken me back then? Surely I would have been able to pass through. Why did I listen to Ghân in the first place? It was not fair – I never wanted this, never wanted to be stranded somewhere… No!

Nawat and Ghân tried to calm me down, but I did not wish to listed, I could not listen… my world had just collapsed for I knew from Ghân's expression that he was telling the truth. I tried to get away from Nawat, tried to escape somewhere… just anywhere where I could still pretend everything was alright and that this was just a stupid dream – in reality I was at the cabin with April and guys... But the warm arms holding me told me otherwise. This was now my reality, a world with evil creatures, Dark Lords and armed men, a world of foreign languages and no place to call home.

"Shhh… Calm down, Megan… Calm down…" said Nawat, but I hit him once or twice with my fist in defeat as what I've been told settled in. There was no strength behind the blows – I was too shocked, too hysterical and out of breath because of the tears to have enough energy to fight him. In the end, he had to hold me up as I sobbed like a child into his chest. He sank to the ground where he held me tightly, still whispering, still telling me everything was going to be alright.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

It was one hour later that I sat under a tree and ate my lunch with no appetite at all. I was probably still pale from shock, for I doubt _everything_ had set in. I had cried for a long time before calming down and even then I had to escape their presence. I ran to the stream, Nawat immediately behind me. After washing my face with cold water, I sat on a small boulder to let the sound of water calm my troubled mind. Nawat's presence in the nearby bushes comforted me even when I wanted to be alone. He was just a silent presence at the edge of my vision, a guardian and a friend.

Once I had felt like facing the men and the world again, I stood up and slowly moved to him. A tight hug was my apology and search for comfort.

"It is alright, Megan. It is alright…" he whispered and I was glad to have him near. I never knew how it felt to have a brother but hoped this feeling was what I would probably feel if I were comforted by him. "We will protect you; we will bring you back to the veil once your duty is done."

I said nothing in return, fighting tears of despair. I had no idea what my duty would be, what I could possibly be expected to do in order to return back home. Middle Earth had no need for someone like me - an arts student. I did not hope I would find that mysterious purpose any time soon – in fact, at the moment my future appeared quite bleak. Frankly, I was too tired to search for a silver lining in the thunderclouds gathering above my life.

Nawat sighed in relief when I turned in the direction of the camp where men could be heard conversing in rather subdued voices. I guess he was not used to deal with such situations. Fortunately, Ghân had enough excitement for the day and decided to postpone our talk for some time. Like other men, he observed me with sympathy and worry, as I picked up my blanket and moved it to a shade beneath one of the tall trees. They were kind people and not at fault for my current predicament, so I was not angry with them. It was hard being angry when you had no one but yourself to be angry at.

_What had I done wrong in my life? What could I have possibly done to deserve this? _I asked myself. No wonder even food tasted horrible when I dealt with such heavy thoughts.

"Megan!" called Nawat. I raised my eyes from the spoon and asked him what the matter was. He stood in the shade of the rock shelter, behind the collapsed hut the men were slowly cleaning up. They've collected wood for the fire and found some useful things that were placed on the ground beside the bundles they've brought from their scouting.

"Come and take a look," he gestured me to join him. I hadn't even taken a closer look at the collapsed building before, so I decided to listen to him. I wasn't hungry and doing something, anything to put my mind off depressing topics seemed good enough to abandon my spot. Putting down the bowl and twisting my hair away from my face, I went to the small path they've cleared among the rubble.

"What is it?" I asked him as I climbed over boards and various plants until I stood beside him at the very opening of the rock shelter. It was relatively high, so we could safely be standing up and even touch the ceiling when standing on our toes with extended arms. The place was relatively free of debris and rotten wood due to men's efforts.

"Here, this is what I've found," he pointed to a dark corner. "I am sure it will interest you." Carefully he led me over the remaining rubble and broken pottery until I stood with him in the shadows. On the rounded walls were dark smudges. But when my eyes got adjusted to the dark, I realised they were paintings, Native American paintings in a style I've seen in the museum April brought me to. I couldn't believe it!

"Nawat," I gasped, "This is wonderful." My eyes drew in the style of the frescos, the careful design. My hands moved carefully over the painted areas without touching them for I knew they were fragile since winter and summer affected them once the building had collapsed. This sign of a presence of another visitor from my world comforted me, gave me some hope. The stylised animals – crows, deer, frogs and eagles – they told of a deep love for nature and cultural heritage. Red, yellow and black colours blended together to form a story of this mysterious visitor.

"You see," said Nawat with a smile as I turned to him with awe still shining in my eyes, "He too was versed in making pictures, just like you are. Our ancestors helped him hide during dark times and he built a quiet life here, perfecting his art in wood and colour too it seems. I believe my father still has one of the carved animals he left behind once he passed through the veil."

"So he returned back home?"

"Yes, and he learned many things while he lived here. So, while every one of our friends had a gift or an ability to set them apart from the rest of his people, they all learned from us. Do not despair, Megan. You will find your purpose here, you will find deep in yourself the reason you were sent to us. I do not doubt you already know what you were born to do."

I hugged him for the encouraging words. Just how did he know what to say to make me feel better?

Nawat gestured towards a painting of a crow with stretched wings and began to recite the story it presented. He spoke of the Indian tribe, their beliefs and legends that were passed down to him from his father and mother. Every single one of the Druedain had a duty to remember songs and tales of their friends to pass them to the next generation. As I listened to his account, I began to realise just how tight the communities grew through the centuries and I had to wonder what had happened to cut the bond. There, among the animals and spirits were handprints made in red – signatures of a long passed friendship that had built the hut and created the clearing. And this evidence of respect and support gave me hope.

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Tell me what you liked, what made yu angry and what questions plague your mind... I'll be glad to answer.


	16. A Painted Face

A/N: I'm really sorry for the long delay in my updates, but I've been awfully busy at first and then I lost my muse for a short while. Rest assured I'm back on the track and brimming with new ideas. The story is going to move more quickly now, jumping over the unimportant details, yet still (hopefully) retaining the little extra that caught your interest. :D

I'm dying for some reviews ;)

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Chapter Fourteen: A Painted Face

**Or: Time moves by**

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It was a crisp morning I woke to the next day. As I lay huddled under the blanket and coat to ward off the chill, I listened to the few early birds singing sporadically, too lazy to get up and get exposed to the cold air. I realised everyone was still asleep, I and a guard the only two people conscious at this hour. Nawat's soft breaths were heard somewhere at my back since we had laid down our blankets closely together around a small fire which was still burning thanks to the attentive guard. I didn't feel like preparing breakfast this time… No, I felt miserable and without energy and not in the least inclined to do something for someone beside myself…

I moved my legs to a comfortable position and thought sluggishly about this and that – just as thoughts appeared in my mind. Mostly, they were centred at the events of the previous day and the painful revelations it had brought me. I could not forget the pain, the agony I had experienced then. But it was far from over – no, my torment had not finished yet. The next weeks would prove to be some of the hardest of my life, and a part of me knew I was to be tried again and again, my strength and will put to the limit and beyond. No wonder I was feeling sort of hollow as I lay under the warm covers, lost and without a will to move a finger…

I recognized the feeling that was constricting my chest, robbing me of all energy – it was the same one that had accompanied me for a week after my separation from Adrian. I could never have forgotten it – never. Nothing seemed important anymore, it seemed to be of no consequence whether I got up or not, whether I tried to continue or give up… The fighting spirit I had was almost gone and existed in a feeble form that was like a candle spluttering in the wind and preserving for some miraculous reason which was unknown to me. Yes, it was really hard to remember why to care, why to look forward.

But the birds and their usual happy sounds put an end to my low spirits. The first warm rays beckoned me to get up and bask in the crisp air of a new day. There was a special tranquillity about the place… the sounds of the winds and the birds flowed together in a soothing harmony which was made only sweeter by the gentle greeting of the sun, and which in turn put my mind off depressing topics and rather encouraged me to think about things that had always brought me pleasure. I knew the view on the forests and wild mountains would be fantastic from a spot near the edge of the clearing and the boulders. The eastern side had a small opening among the old trees from where the jagged and proud peaks would be seen glistening in the morning sun in thousand shades of gold and pink. This is what I wanted to see, to imprint in my mind – it was what my soul lived off when I was painting to forget my troubles. I was well aware I would look upon the same scene many a morning in the future, but knew that each day, each dawn and sunset, is different from the other and thus always worth watching.

Slowly, I stood up from my sleeping place and carefully straightened so I did not bump into nearby sleeping forms. Still bundled in the blankets, I carefully stepped over two sleeping men blocking my path and went towards the end of the clearing. The guard had looked up at my movement and I acknowledged him with a nod of my head which he copied before busying himself with something he had been doing up to then. The grass was wet with dew and where the sun kissed it with its ray it glistened in a faithful copy of sparkling diamonds. I did not don my leather shoes, but went to the edge in my socks. I did not care that dew soaked them through, chilling my feet, I welcomed the new day with all my senses to cleanse myself from the stress of the previous weeks.

The air was clean and crisp and its coldness only added a new dimension to the sight opening to me. The majestic mountains and endless forests that gave way to grassland and hills behind the cliffs closing off the line of sight of the clearing greeted me with their fresh and yet old beauty. Mists covered the treetops, moving slowly higher under the warmth of the sun… it was a sight rarely seen in the hectic life I had led before. The timelessness of the morning and dawn embraced me and kept me captivated.

I did not believe I would ever understand why it was me who got dragged into this world, or know what to do to get back home… but I knew that I had to get over this and try to do my best to return back home, to survive. I thanked whoever was watching over me that I got safe thus far and prayed to remain safe a while longer.

I stood at the edge, blankets held tight against my hands, and let the cold breeze ruffle my hair freely. After a long time of being subjected to peril and fears I felt like myself for the first time once again. It seemed the tears I had cried the past day had washed away those fears and let me gather strength to face the biggest challenge of my life. Like I had survived my separation from Adrian (which was a first life-changing event of my life) I knew I would find courage and determination to survive this too.

Funny, how the quiet time before the world wakes up can make a difference in one's life. It certainly put my priorities straight and filled me with new energy. I felt that as long as I could find this quiet place inside myself I would be alright; I would remain strong and true to myself.

This silent period of the early mornings became my favourite part of a day in following weeks. It offered me a unique opportunity to look inside myself free from all obligations and expectations of the men, a time when I could refresh my memories of friends and family without feeling guilty for being ungrateful for the help of the Druedain. And at the same time as I did this each morning, I was saying goodbye to my home and sending my well-wishes across the vast space separating me from my loved ones – a space that separated us only for a little while and not forever, I hoped. I knew enough then to know the Travellers spent at least a year among the Tribe, even more. So goodbye it was for that time to my family, friends and soft bed…

_Goodbye, until I return back again… _I thought and lifted my hand in a greeting gesture to the sun which bathed me in soft light and vibrant colours. _Stay safe…and don't forget me._

I heard the men get up slowly then and Nawat's voice asking about my location once he saw my spot empty, so I turned my back on the beautiful sight, wiped my eyes which had become a bit wet with emotions and joined them in the preparations of our breakfast.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

Many days passed since that first morning and nature finally accepted the approaching spring with open hands. The trees, bushes and all kinds of grasses rushed to greet the spring rain with fresh bright-green leaves. The ground, soaked from the melted snow, struggled to drink up the amounts of water the heavens poured down on us in the next days.

"Megan, help me with the fish," called Nawat as I was resting at the edge of the rock shelter we moved our camp to. I pitied the men who were gone hunting in the bad weather – it poured from the skies and the temperatures were not as high as I had hoped they would turn out as days passed. No – it was quite fresh, but not too much for the awakened nature to stop it from sprouting new flowers and leaves.

I turned my gaze from the depressing downpour and lifted the edges of the blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders to step into the reasonably big space we had managed to arrange into a comfortable home. Only four men were present, so other blankets were stored at the walls to give us more room for walking. A warm fire burned close to the opening to keep the cold out and as little smoke in. Nawat was crouching beside it, busy preparing the fish we've caught the previous evening into two baskets Achâk and Ghân had fashioned from young twigs. The men had knotted lids over the baskets tightly, lowered them into water so the fish stayed alive until Kwahu brought them to the fire just a while ago. Thank god I did not need to see the poor things struggle for breath once they were pulled out of water – such things were still a bit hard to stomach, even when I reminded myself that I had been eating meat all my life, so I should be able to witness the death of the animals I was about to consume to survive. I guessed I would never get used to procuring my own food, let alone kill it first, but need and hunger are good teachers in this regard. But cleaning fish was definitely not my favourite task, yet I had to do my share of work or go hungry – the Druedain made no excuses.

Kwahu, the unfortunate porter, was drying his clothing beside the fire too, his hair dripping steadily on the blanket he pulled over his shoulders. I was pleased to see him nursing a warm drink – the weather was really good for catching colds or other kinds of ailments. Since I had barely gotten well, I was very concerned about it, although Achâk managed to find herbs of various kinds even this early in the year. I still trusted modern medicine more than the teas he prepared for us.

"Where has your father gone to today?" I asked Nawat when I took a knife and started cleaning the scales from the fish. The small see-through disks flew in every direction, but I did not mind the mess anymore. We would clean up after everything was done. The smell was unfortunately offensive to my nose.

"They've gone to look at that tree again - to see the terrain," answered Nawat, surprising me.

The plans, which had surprised me very much a few days ago, were being fulfilled, regardless the bad weather. Ghân (well, the entire group of the Druedain) had decided to rebuild the hut in front of the rock shelter. I was not sure what to say to their plans at first, still a bit in shock from the forced stay I guess, but soon felt it was a good thing to think about building something more durable and comfortable than a rock shelter. The weather had changed overnight and the heavy rain lasting for two days in tow made me appreciate a nice roof above my head more than anything else. The wind howling past the cliffs brought low temperatures with them which in turn made sleeping on the ground more than a little uncomfortable, especially when I had barely managed to get rid of my cold. The bad weather and the cramped living conditions did demand a solution, but I had not imagined they would decided upon something as difficult as rebuilding a hut in the middle of nowhere. Even when they were arguing one point or another, I knew this would be no piece of cake, but was not brave enough to point out the difficulties right away. It appeared to me to be impossible to build a new hut, but the sorry remains of the previous one we had cleaned away were testament enough that they had succeeded before. And quite well, I must add.

"Ah, that big oak Achâk says is no good?" I inquired, my eyes kept firmly on the sharp knife and the slippery fish in my hand.

Nawat hummed in agreement, but the wry twist of his lips told me, as I looked at his face, he had full confidence in his father winning the argument. I just shook my head in response, quite satisfied for staying out of the friendly competition of wills between two stubborn men, and continued with my work. I was not stupid to interfere and even more of telling anyone what they should or shouldn't do. Besides, the men were the ones who offered to build a house and that was only because I had to be kept safe – I had thusly no excuse at all to meddle into their business, but if they asked for an opinion, I gave one.

I had to admit they were trying to explain everything they did, so I knew why the two were arguing about a tree in a forest filled with greenery one could only imagine. It was not the oak itself that was the problem - it was the slope it grew on. They had been looking for a few days for appropriate trees that were the right size, with light or sturdy wood, and which grew on good terrain that would make the transport of beams easier later on. I had never imagined just how much energy was spent on careful planning before the actual building of a house. Heavy machinery made such work easier in my world, but also left in the woods big scars which the Druedain never could make with their tools and mindset about nature.

And there was yet another surprise – the tools. I knew they had three axes with them and plenty of knives and arrowheads, but no saws or other carpentry tools necessary for such heavy work. Here the ingenuity of their forefathers came into play. The mysterious bundles they had dragged to the camp on the first day held a treasure inside them – bronze tools carefully stored from the time when the old hut had been built. They had found the old storage place surprisingly fast regarding the almost forgotten status of the site.

The first inspection of the bundles revealed that only new wooden handles had to be made, the edges sharpened and the metal checked for signs of damage, but all in all they could start working almost immediately, they assured. Still, the men took their time to test each chisel and axe, inspect every scratch and nick before deeming them suitable for work. I offered my help with this task since I knew something about bronze from my studies, but I had to learn quite a few things about it yet. I would always be more of a painter than a sculptor.

However, the knife I used for cleaning fish was made of iron – one of the several I had collected from the unfortunate group – but I wouldn't have minded having one of the bronze ones. They were indeed beautiful works of art and would probably for the same reason be admired and not utilized for such mundane tasks.

Finished with the smelly cleaning of the fish and quite happy to be rid of them until they were on my plate, I stood up and wandered to the big bowl of rain-water at the entrance to wash my hands. It was cold, so I scrubbed quickly beneath my fingernails then returned back to pick up the ragged piece of leather we used as covers for the ground when preparing food. Someone still had to grab the broom made of birch branches and clean up the scales that had fallen on the ground, but I was excused form this duty. I had another job to do in the other side of the stone-shelter after I had placed the dirty leather on a rock a few steps from the entrance. The rain would clean it up in time.

"Did you see anyone?" asked Nawat as I passed him.

"No, no sign of them yet," I replied, but I could have hardly seen anything from the entrance – the wooden pillars and other wood that had not yet completely rotted away was neatly stored in a large heap which blocked the view of the forest where the men would arrive. I did not expect them to be out long – it rained too hard.

"I do hope the path won't turn into mud – Achâk would demand we find another tree," Nawat sighed.

"It can't rain much longer, can it?" I asked for I couldn't imagine being holed up and cold for an entire week. "Surely it would get dry enough."

"I doubt it – when we'll drag the heavy beams across the floor, it'll definitely turn into a mud track. I don't relish sliding downhill with a heavy trunk at all," Nawat was pessimistic. His worries did make me ponder about the danger of transportation. We'd need strong ropes – a lot of ropes - and we had none as of yet.

I shrugged, knowing they already had a plan in motion to solve the problem and turned toward my next task, confident that everything would turn out right in some way or another. So, the task of making soap was what awaited me. I had never done that before, thus I turned out to be a very willing pupil when Awan slowly showed me the process – each day one part of it since I had to learn a lot of new words to follow instructions correctly.

An old big pot with a cracked edge was designated for cooking the raw soap in over a steady fire. We used animal fat as a base and added a lye solution made from ashes from our fire, then stirred until it was ready to be poured into several moulds made from wood that they had fashioned quite quickly in the long hours of heavy downpour. The men had been busy in that time, so I rarely had a free minute as well. But I didn't mind since I've learned things I've usually never paid attention to in my modern world of supermarkets and factories. Who in their right mind would make soap from animal fat in their backyard nowadays? It smelled funny, looked gross and was time consuming. But I did like standing close to the fire – it was the only time I was not cold these days. My clothing told me in unmistakable terms that I had lost some weight, so it was no wonder I had cold hands all of the time. A new blanket made of deer leather was a very attentive gift I had received after the hides the Druedain took with were tanned – although, I still woke up in the night because of the cold that seeped in past the dying fire and settled into the stones we slept on. I dreamed of my warm and soft down quilt more than once in those nights in a mocking contrast to the cold resting place I actually had to find sleep on until, in the following days when the work on a new hut actually began, exhaustion took care of the problem quite effectively. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and didn't wake until Nawat nudged me in the morning.

So it was that in the third week after our arrival, I woke up rested and relatively warm to a sunny day by myself. My hands and thighs did not ache anymore, used to the hard work as they were by now, but there was a noticeable tension in them which had to be rid off by a nice and long stretch in the gentle morning sun. The first greetings exchanged with the men who were already awake while one part of the group remained wrapped up in their covers, I moved to the entrance of the shelter and observed the few sparkling dew drops on the pillars and beams that were standing on their designated spots. We had managed to make quite a progress, but there was still a lot to be done – so much that I doubted we would be finished anytime soon.

The strong pillars were standing in neat rows where the walls of the hut would be, giving me an impression of the size and height of the building. The existing holes in the ground were used again to build a wooden construction made of pillars, beams and a basis for a floor in a good imitation of cube-like steel and concrete constructions of modern buildings I was used to. The pine beams for the roof were supported by strong oak pillars and further held in place by the holes hewn into the rock above the opening of the rock shelter. It looked good, this first beginning of a new building, but it was really hard work to drag the roughly hewn beams to the clearing, shape and position them. But the changes in the colour of the wood were fascinating to observe – as the sun ate away the dew and dried the wood, it turned into its beautiful colour once again. It was a slow and heavy work, but the results made it all the more worth it. I felt proud of myself.

But on this day, that did not grab my attention – no, I was looking at the bundles of hay which were placed in small squares along one big boulder which closed off the space of the clearing. I had to sigh. I could feel the calluses on my fingers itch just thinking about long hours of archery lessons that waited for me after the first chores were done. The change in my arms was already apparent as I've slowly developed some muscles I previously lacked. It did make wielding a bow much easier, but my hands ached nonetheless afterwards. And there were also my hands – they were not like they used to be – barely healed scratches, bruises and nicks covered the skin in an erratic pattern… There was nothing to be done – they have turned into hands of a manual worker, not an artist.

More than happy to leave things that did not need immediate attention (and would only sour my mood early in the morning) at the back of my mind, I moved to my favourite spot where I gathered the needed energy for a new day. The sun called me to bask in its warmth and to observe the rising mists. I pulled out my mp3-player and listened once again to Kitaro and his song named Heaven and Earth. Every single battery I had with me was carefully numbered and protected like the apple of my eye – one song a day was what I allowed myself, no more. I was also careful enough to hide more 'alien' belongings, since I doubted they'd believe my explanations. Songs were thus my only tie to my old world, to my culture and therefore treasured even more than they were before. The men did sing sometimes when doing more easy chores, but that was not the same.

I tried to keep my ties with my old culture, but my journal was not progressing very quickly since there was not enough time to write things down, but I recalled everything in my mind as well as I could until time presented itself. I fervently hoped my dear ones knew I was ok. If Ghân would not have made it very clear how dangerous turning back would be, I doubt they'd be able to keep me here much longer. With time my desire to return only strengthened. It did not matter how much there was to do, I missed my old life more than ever and the negative emotions, frustration and feelings of regret I swallowed down on regular basis began to fester in my heart. New revelations and observances did nothing to stop this destructive process either…

Ghân told me the same magical call they felt at my entrance was noticed by other people with some magic in them – and since he gathered that I knew more then I let on, he virtually imprisoned me in this safe place. I could not just wander off, even when I was doing my chores. They did try to be unobtrusive and to respect my privacy, but I could feel them watch over me and my paths - it unnerved me. I was not used to be under constant vigilance, no matter how kindly meant. It really felt as if I was a prisoner and not even Nawat's kind nature could change my mind about it on the days I felt quite low.

But I had to admit that Ghân proved to be quite open with his answers when we talked about various topics concerning his people and traditions. Yet, he did not like to talk about the outside world and their involvement with other people, their conflicts. But what made me put a barrier between us, at least on a subconscious level, was the feeling I was not yet accepted fully into their group. Perhaps they felt my own reservations, ignorance about their culture and nature were too big barriers to be easily overcome. They tried – we all tried – to live together and to understand one another, but it was a long-term process that came in a package with many smaller and bigger obstacles. And perhaps one of them was my wish to return back home, my stubborn denial that I was in any way meant to come here. But they were patient people and their calm natures paid off eventually. I do eventually realise I'm head-walling and stop my foolishness.

So, after pocketing the mp3-player, I put on my everyday face, which (I hoped) hid the melancholy mood I found myself in on this morning. I didn't mind helping with the chores - preparing meals, gathering herbs and crafting all kinds of bowls for storage, chop wood and do thousands of other small things around the camp – but I missed painting, missed my old company and listening to music to my hearts content while I worked on a project or two. On some days, when even the men were more silent than usual, I thought I would go mad if I had to endure the silence stretching between us. Not even the usual sounds of the wind, night birds and rare insects could sooth me. Therefore I began to study the old Indian paintings more often, knowing that copying them on paper would sooth my nerves more than music itself. Nawat seemed to understand my fascination and praised the accuracy of my sketches. But copying isn't the same as painting something original… I missed my teachers – if that was even possible! – missed their comments, the annoying remarks on the mistakes I've made when portraying a model. However, this matter was quickly pushed aside by another problem our group faced – wolves.

Men found wolf tracks more often as time moved by, but nothing else betrayed the beasts' presence in this part of the woods. There was no howling, no sighting of them, only the disturbing prints in the mud that made Ghân post several guards at the entrance to our clearing and construct a sturdy fence. Then there were several traps prepared if the dangerous beast ever dared to come near, but since we never saw them tension ran high. Everything pointed out that the beasts were moving in strange circles across the mountains – at one time coming near and at the other disappearing entirely from our sight. This erratic behaviour puzzled, worried and annoyed Ghân (and me as well) since we were never sure when to expect one of them to suddenly materialise in front of us when gathering wood and herbs in the forest.

I guess this too did nothing to help me settle in, feel at home. I was terrified of the size of the prints and how easily the dangerous predators moved around. But one positive thing did come out of this – I was more than eager to master the bow and knives. Fear was my greatest motivator in this endeavour. The time I've spent helping the men with building the hut, practising my archery and the staggering amount of meat I ate on regular basis soon manifested in a better physical condition. I don't believe I've ever before been in a better shape.

Wielding a bow was much easier with stronger muscles and stamina. It was not two months after our arrival that I've changed from the smaller one to the big bows they used for hunting. And since I've showed some talent in fletching and making arrows, the task was appointed almost solely to me. But making poison and using it was still a taboo for me. I was curious about it, but not enough to be really bothered by it. I had other interesting things to do since the forest shrouded itself in foliage like it wanted to protect the soft ground from the warmer sun. Spring flowers bloomed everywhere and the meadows were covered in lush green grass. It was a perfect time to learn new things.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

It was a cool evening and I sat at the sunken-in fireplace of the finished hut. The fire licked greedily at the dry logs I've put in and emitted enough heat to make me warm again. Since I had been busy washing the dishes, my fingers were really cold and even a bit numb from the eternally icy water, thus extending them over the fire felt like heaven. It prickled slightly, but feeling how sensation returned back into my flesh was a small miracle that never ceased to fascinate me.

Nawat sat down nearby unexpectedly, finished talking with Kwahu it seemed. A fleeting smile greeted him before my focus returned to the flames. I felt a bit tired, but content after the hard day's work. I firmly believed at that time that the year I had to spend in Middle Earth would pass by quicker as I would become accustomed to living in these medieval conditions. I did miss my modern hygiene routine, no doubt about that, but the primal conditions did not bother me as they did before – mud and sweat became something quite natural and the smell of stale smoke in my hair did not call forth an urge to dunk my head into cold water. Thank god I got rid of the lice and managed to steer clear from them. It was muck better to be able to just fall asleep and not go through the tiresome routine of combing the little beasts out. The infernal itching was also nothing I would _ever_ miss.

I sighed in satisfaction.

"So, how has your day been?" asked Nawat.

"Fine – quite busy, but fine. Yours?" I queried with a big smile. It was almost a routine for us to share the events of the day since we were often were separated. And this day had truly been something remarkable.

"The same, I guess," he shrugged with a relaxed smile, "I'm still insisting that I've got the better shot at that deer, you know," he quirked an eyebrow playfully, referring to a small incident at the day's hunt which ended in an argument that had to be settled at the camp and on my practice targets – when I was supposed to practice there. I couldn't help myself – the memory of the event and the hilarious boasting it entailed made me snicker.

And Nawat had been deliberately loud enough that his challenger - Chogân - heard him too! I just knew this would turn interesting.

The big hunter turned slowly around, abandoning his conversation with his friends, and pierced Nawat with a powerful glare that had little effect on its recipient. He was still nursing a slightly bruised ego because the archery contest ended in a draw. Nawat was not the best archer of the tribe, but still a very skilled man in this area. It was Chogân who was deemed the best, so it must have come quite as a surprise to be so evenly matched. In the field or on the hunt, Chogân would undoubtedly be the better man, but practicing with me on the static targets improved Nawat's technique, thus he was able to do very well at the practice field. It was mostly the comments after the competition that riled the big hunter.

I snickered behind my hand, turning my face away from the stare-match the men started for it was just too funny to observe. Nawat's lips twitched every other second, making it impossible for me to stop shaking with laughter. The other men were no better off than I.

"If you are so confident in your abilities, Nawat, then let's try them out on the next hunt," said Chogân as he crossed his arms at his chest thus showing off his taught muscles.

"Oh, you know very well I have to take care of my pupil here," replied Nawat offhandedly then reached with his right hand for me, and in one strong motion pulled me by my shoulder so I collided with his chest, still laughing.

"But from what I've seen of her archery today, she doesn't need a teacher anymore," said the hunter with raised eyebrows. I stopped laughing, turning with curiously to see if he truly meant what he had said.

"Yes, you may be right there," nodded Nawat then turned smiling eyes to me as I straightened at his side. "You did master the bow, Megan," he said, but I doubted he really meant it. I was still half as quick as he was and my aim was not always on the spot – _does he truly mean it?_

He nodded at my questioning gaze. "Father and I believe you are ready to become a hunter of our tribe," said Nawat, much to my surprise. "And others believe so too after they've seen you practice."

I stared at him, feeling excitement and happiness gather in my chest at the praise.

True - they had never taken me with them on a hunt, but still put a lot of effort in polishing my archery technique. It was odd, I admit, and I should have paid more attention to it, but since there were many other things I could do to help I didn't mind. Yet it seemed that to be a hunter meant a lot more than I previously thought or suspected. Nawat's serious expression and tone of voice led me to believe it was an important step in their culture, something that would raise me in their eyes. I knew that several of their women hunted themselves, but was until now satisfied by placing traps and not actually following my prey through the woods. It sounded intriguing and exciting – and also practical for my future – yet I was cautious enough to inquire more about it. It appeared they had decided together on this issue, so there had to be more about it.

"Yes there are rules," Nawat nodded at my question and several men confirmed his words, but they seemed to be happy I was interested. Ghân came closer and nodded to his son to continue. "When a member of our tribe makes their first kill, he or she is called a hunter," Nawat said and I recognized the ritualistic gestures his father used when telling a story or teaching me something important.

I turned to face him – giving him my full attention.

"But there is much more to the hunt than getting your prey. You must become one with the spirits of the forest, the spirits of the animals, learn to respect and honour them, and thank properly for their sacrifice. The success of the hunt depends on it," he cautioned me.

"Are you willing to learn?" asked Ghân, giving me a supportive smile.

I nodded. In the two months spent living among them, I've already learned several of their prayers and customs regarding food and other time connected rituals. They were quite simple and something I didn't mind doing. It pleased them, so why be obstinate?

"What must I do?" I asked, knowing somewhere deep inside this was a pivotal moment of my life. The funny and boisterous mood of before changed and turned into something else; something profound, sacred even.

"I will tell you. Listen," he said with a smile, signalling the men to join us and form a circle around the fire that cracked merrily, letting smoke drift upwards and disappear through an opening in the roof.

"Long ago, when the sun first began its journey, the spirits of the forests and animals gathered together on a lonely meadow. The moon shone down upon them, the stars sparkled in the cloudless sky. They talked about their days, of what they've learned new and interesting from other creatures," he began and took a small bowl from Achâk. With a gentle motion of his finger, I line was painted down my forehead and nose. The men did the same as he continued, "And then they learned from an owl that new creatures were coming to their forest. Tall and strong they were, but ignorant of the spirit world. 'Let us teach them', said a willow, 'Let them join our circle…' But not everyone was willing to do so…" he whispered.

What followed was one of the most enchanting moments of my stay as Nawat's and Ghân's warm voices were accompanied in their tale with murmurs, enigmatic songs and clapping of the men. Together we travelled through time, remembering old songs the spirits sang as they celebrated their lives and mourned the change of the world as evil spread across the land. Unknowingly, I became a participant in an age-old ritual that would make me a true member of the tribe. The tale of a deer, a young man, forest spirits and long sol-searching journeys continued long into the night, but it was only one in a long row of nights I spent listening to their wise words, their beliefs. I liked their stories, legends, for they were very different from what I've heard or read as a child. The singing and active participation in the more dramatic parts of the tales were part of the amusement and teaching too – we laughed and celebrated, but buried behind was the knowledge that all lives are sacred and must be respected. I deeply believed that and felt grateful for their teachings.

Of course, not everything was to my taste – a week long fast I had to endure before the actual hunt was a less cherished part of the process. Anthropologists would surely relish the experience of going through an initiation, but I was less amused by the actual procedure. The stories and the acceptance that followed were a balm for my soul, but the herbs and teas I drank as a substitute for real, glorious and warm food were not my cup of tea. They sure did clean my body of _any_ possible toxins – some of the girls from high-school, who were always discussing this and that diet at the loo, would have surely gladly drank gallons of the foul stuff if it would made them loose an extra pound.

The only consolation I had for enduring the 'torture' was the knowledge that Nawat had to go through this with me as he was my designated mentor. That surely put a smile on my face. The men laughed at the face he pulled when Achâk thrust the bowl with the very bitter smelling (and tasting!) concoction the day my fast began – I trust his memories of his time going through it were not as fond as he wished they were. What really cracked me (and the camp) up was his miserable comment in the evening.

"I just hope my son won't grow fast to become a hunter," he said, "I'll need a few years to recover…"


	17. The White Wolf

A/N: I know it's ben a long time, but here's a new chapter. I've been working in a kindergarden for a month with a bunch of 3 to 5 year old children... my do they sap your energy levels. So, hopefully the next chapter will be finished quicker and bring with it the Rangers as some have asked for more mention of them :D

Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review (if you have the time, of course).

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Chapter Fifteen: The White Wolf

**Or: What happens on the hunt**

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The morning of the final day of my fast dawned early – perhaps too early for my taste. I was awake well before the others, anticipation of the hunt making me too nervous to really fall asleep. I sat by the fire, lost in thought, when Nawat approached me. I greeted him with a smile but my attention almost immediately turned inwards again. I knew what was expected of me and was prepared to take a life, honouring the animals sacrifice all the same, but all kind of doubts plagued me nonetheless.

_What if something goes wrong?_ I asked myself repeatedly._ What if I miss, scare the animals away?_

My inner monologue was suddenly halted by the warm hand on my shoulder. "Come," said Nawat and I rose up to follow him to the cold stream. There I was to wash and prepare for the special day. I received new clothes that reminded me of Native American outfits - a tunic-style shirt made of leather that I pulled over my cotton T-shirt and soft leather trousers that replaced the rugged pair I wore on regular basis. The colours blended well with the forest, better than my own bright clothes.

Nawat too dressed in a new pair of his tribe's traditional clothing after quickly washing his face and torso with the freezing water. I stood there waiting for him, rubbing my hands to get warm again after the quick wash, knowing that he had to paint my face and uncovered skin of my hands with the paste Achâk had prepared and blessed the night before. Three bowls were placed on the floor – one chalk-white from the colour, the other a deep red, while the third was black.

"Kneel down, Megan," he said as he reached for a wooden comb.

With careful motions he combed out my hair that now reached my waist. With practiced motions he braided it close to my head and secured it with few straps of leather. As I turned around, he took the white bowl into his hands and dipped two fingers in the sticky mass. I closed my eyes as he gently drew a white line down my forehead, nose, skipped my lips and continued down my chin to the suprasternal notch. A horizontal line across my cheeks was drawn next, making a funny cross across my face. He painted a few lines down my hands too then washed his hand in the stream before taking the bright red bowl. Small dots were painted below the horizontal line with the smallest of his fingers. Then he added some above my eyebrows, lastly painting two lines of dots along my carotid arteries. They had a strong symbolism that reminded the hunter he could turn into prey just as well as the animals he hunted, that the blood flowing in his veins was no less red than that of the animals. The bright dots were charms for luck too – anticipating the spurt of blood from the wound dealt by the hunter to end the prey's life. I could feel goose bumps on my hands now that were not the result of the cold water.

The last to follow was the black colour. The hue of the night, of secrecy and stealth, but also the colour of warning from falling prey to the evil inside, the evil of bloodlust. Nawat carefully applied it across my eyes, colouring the entire area from the left hairline to the right, then hiding the unpainted skin of my neck with it, so that only the bright white line and red dots remained seen. My hands were covered in it too, making them appear smaller than they were and my pinkish nails symbolic claws.

"Now you are ready," he said as I took the black bowl from his hands and dipped my own fingers in it. In show of gratitude for his guidance, I had to draw a line down his forehead and nose too, adding a few dots under his eyes to keep him apart form other men.

We smiled at each other after speaking the ritual words and adding a prayer for a successful hunt then returned to the hut where the rest of the group already waited. I could feel my stomach clench painfully with nerves, but my hands were steady as I took my bow from Ghân when the rest of the ceremony began. It was short, yet their pride was easily seen on their faces as I turned to the forest with Nawat, the three chosen guardians following behind us at a distance. They represented guardian spirits from one of their legends and were there to protect me from evil that could befall me in my vulnerable state between being a member of the tribe or an outsider.

I asked Nawat for a last minute advice before I had to follow the trail of animal feet they had found the previous night. He was allowed to help me, but I wanted to do as much as possible on my own. Nobody expected me to be a superb hunter right away, but I fell easily into the routine of searching for fresh tracks, taking note of the wind direction and other small things one had to be mindful of when hunting. I did not wish to return with a pair of rabbits that were usually hunted with traps, nor with smaller birds, no – a deer, that was what I wanted.

_You are crazy if you think you'll succeed…_ I told myself more times I could remember, but I followed the fresh trail I found despite my scepticism. When I noticed that Nawat was shooting me searching glances when I debated over something too long, I decided to ignore my uncertainty and go for it. I knew this part of the forest as I had helped the men carry a small amount of salt we found in a remote rock shelter. The hole was very small, just enough for two men, but the salty residue on the walls turned out to be a discovery of great importance for our daily lives (and culinary skills). It was not much and would in all certainty turn out to be depleted very soon, but the location of the salt was a well known part of the forest thus helping me in my pursuit of prey.

The mists were lifting up, taking the chill with them, but I was sweating despite the low temperature. I was nervous, listening to every sound when I managed to calm the mad beating of my heart. I knew I was close and that this was perhaps my only chance at catching a deer. I slowed down considerably. The clearing was still a while ahead, but I did not intent to approach it head on, no – I had to go in a circle, watch out for the wind that blew towards me but could change at any minute. The mountains were unpredictable.

Nawat nodded encouragingly when I turned right, apparently approving my decision to approach the herd of deer at grass from that direction. I did not know how many there were judging just by the prints, but I hoped a larger group had decided to stop there for a while. It was not long afterwards that I approached them hidden behind the boulders and from an off-wind direction until I could count their heads with relative ease. Now came the really hard part and I prayed to all gods imaginable to succeed. MY future depended on it.

"Take your time, you've done well," whispered Nawat as he joined me in my hiding place. I just nodded tersely, my nerves strung so high I doubted I could utter a word. I gripped the bow and inspected it again, counted my arrows and arranged their feathers – doing everything possible before taking a look at the herd again. I knew that the next hour or so would be a test of my mental strength as well as my archery skills. I had only one shot, only one and it had to sit right or the animal would wander off too far for me to ever find it again.

_Damn!_ I cursed in my mind. _I can't do this…_

Nawat looked at me as if I had uttered the last part aloud, but he probably remembered his own fears. Yet maybe my face betrayed me even with all the layers of paint on them. If I were a boy, I doubt he would say anything, but he reached out for my hand and squeezed it again. "You can do it, wolf."

I smiled at the nickname and touched the pendant hanging around my neck. His belief in me and my guardian grounded me again and I shook off my insecurities with surprising ease. _They have prepared me for this moment. They believe I can do it…_

Hugging Nawat who would remain behind for this last part of the hunt, I turned towards the clearing and slowly moved closer to the herd. I had to find a spot that would allow me a clean shot and hide me at the same time. I would have to get pretty close, but the wind was in my favour.

The next hour passed by very quickly but I barely noticed the passage of time. I was tied to the herd, tied to their flow and laws – when they moved I moved with them, when they watched the perimeters I observed the forest… It was a slow and deadly dance we performed and I was closer and closer to my destination. Meandering along the bushes, boulders and trees, I managed to get close enough to safely shoot an arrow and be sure of it hitting the target. The problem was I had to stand up and slowly stretch the tight bow without them noticing me. I had come so far, but was yet a mile away from my goal.

Taking deep breaths through my nose and uttering a chant in my mind, I prepared myself.

I knew which animal was my target, knew where to hit it to give it a swift death…I had observed it now for half an hour, learned its movements and maybe even caught a glimpse of its personality. It was a young deer – a slim-limbed and dark-brown beauty with graceful movements. I felt almost guilty for singling it out, to make it my prey but there was no turning back and I knew that each hunter felt this twinge at his decision. It was no easy task taking a life.

_May the spirits be with me…_I prayed in a true Druedain fashion; then slowly, very slowly moved upwards behind a broad oak tree. My flanks were protected from sight by a boulder on my right and a bush on my left yet there was an opening large enough to leave me the freedom of choice of my position.

The leather gave off no sound as I stretched my arm, when I positioned the bow. The silent sound of the string being stretched as I took aim felt familiar; the calmness filling my soul as I breathed with the animal, with the herd, nothing new. A deep breath in, a silent exhalation… It was the calm before the storm but my heart remained steady.

The deer lowered its head…

Another measured breath and the muscles pulled tight…

A mouthful of grass…

…and the arrow was released.

The deadly weapon's swish through the air filled my ears before the sound of it hitting and piercing the skin drowned out all else. The animal lost its breath, swaying with the impact. It stood for a moment in shock before it bolted and the entire herd with it.

The thunder of countless feet drowned out Nawat's exclamation, but my eyes were glued to the fatally injured animal. She stumbled after a few jumps, fell on the ground and got on her feet again in a new attempt of running away…a last circle in the meadow and then there was no strength left in her to move again.

The herd disappeared before I moved from my spot, Nawat and the three guardians rushing to get to me as soon as possible. I waited for them at the old oak, a small smile on my face despite the mad thumping of my heart from the adrenaline rush.

"Congratulations!" smiled Nawat as he embraced me and laughed at the pat on the shoulder - a typical gesture of shared victory. "You were wonderful – if I didn't know better, I'd say you were my blood sister," he joked. That was an amazing shot," he told me as the other men nodded in acknowledgment of my displayed skill. I truly did get a perfect view of the animal's flank thus probably hitting the heart or the lungs which was why the animal got down so quickly. It either couldn't breath anymore or its heart had stopped.

"Thank you – I was very lucky today," I replied, knowing that I had quite an easy job of finding the herd in the first place – there were days the men had trouble searching them out and returned empty-handed.

"The spirits guided you on your first hunt," replied Nawat with a ritualistic gesture I copied to give respect for the spiritual guidance. "The wind and the trees hid your approach; the herd was loud enough to miss the sound of your breath… I do think there is more of a wolf in you than we previously imagined," he suddenly said with a mock shocked expression. "You blend with the forest when you put your mind to it. And sure know how to hunt when you let your inner voice lead you," he shook his head while the other men burst into laughter.

I coloured slightly at the hidden praise and the teasing, but the thick layer of paint on my face hid it successfully. But I did punch him lightly in retaliation – what was it that made them so sure I was a wolf anyway? I sure didn't feel like it and didn't really wish to when I thought about the beasts roaming the forest somewhere.

With that in mind I turned towards the place the deer had fallen at and marched there with determined steps. It was time to honour the animal and bring it back to the camp. I was hungry and tired… and it was late too. We truly did take a long time coming this far but I had barely noticed the passage of time.

"Well, this wolf here is taking her share of the prey," I told them nonchalantly over my shoulder, "you can wait for the bones if you'd like…" I said before I ran away at their mock cries of outrage. We all knew the kill was shared equally among all, but it was too good an opportunity to not pay them back.

"You!" cried Nawat over the snickers of his friends for I had said that mostly to him. "Wait till I get you! No respect…" I heard him say before they ran after me. He had asked for it and I felt absolutely giddy now that the adrenaline rush was over.

And then I stood at the beautiful animal, all feelings of victory and happiness wiped away at the sight of death. Even if succeeding in hunt was a thrilling experience, I could never look at it as a sport. No, the consequences were far too serious to look at anything lightly. Were I a different person in a different situation, I believe I would have turned vegetarian, but perhaps it was the guidance and wise words of the Druedain that allowed me to accept this side of life, this darker part of nature. I felt bad for taking a life, but that only made me honour living beings more. Were the men the ones to hunt, skin and then cook the meat, I would have looked at the meal in the same way as a child – without realising a living being had died for me to have something to eat. They had taught me what courage it took to take responsibility for ones actions. I could never again throw away a morsel of meat – not when I knew how it was procured.

_Thank you for sacrificing your life – may your spirit be blessed and live a new life on the holy plains._

I decided right then as I touched her soft pelt that I would keep her skin and do something special to preserve her memory in my mind. The men stood behind me, allowing me to say goodbye to the being that gave up her life so I would live on. Together we wordlessly went about removing the broken shaft of the arrow and arranging her to be brought to the camp. The three guardians were the ones who field dressed the animal, giving me the heart to bury it on the spot we found the deer as it was custom for new hunters.

In the end, all that was seen in the meadow that indicated what had happened was bloodied grass - a broken arrow with ivy twined around it marking the place where the student Megan had buried the injured heart thus turning into a hunter of the Druedain. In the coming days rain would erase even that, but the mind would never forget the image of that lonely meadow as we carried the animal away.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

The life at our clearing continued on like usual in the following days, the only difference being the weather that turned warmer. And this called for exploration of the forest lasting till the evening hours on the days when there were no chores to be done. So I was often seen wandering with a group of two or three as we searched for new hunting spots, eatable plants and fish-filled brooks. It did not take us long to find a path leading to the Mering Stream and the beginnings of Firien Wood, but we dared not go further as this distance already required us to camp outside the protective embrace of fences before we could return back the next morning.

I liked these excursions since they broke the usual pattern of my stay in the mountains. They gave me an opportunity to let my restless spirit free, let me forget where I was and pretend I was still with April and her friends walking the forests of Canada. I could imagine that a flight back home to Europe was still waiting for me. But there was also more to my search. I was on the lookout for plants I could make good paper from – hemp or something similar – and I was not disappointed as we wandered to lower grounds. I had a fair idea how to make paper and even cloth from these tall plants since my group in high school got an assignment on hemp usage. Even though I lacked practical knowledge I was confident that the right procedure would reveal itself to me in a few tries. The men seemed willing to help – they used similar plants for their own clothes and were curious what I intended to achieve. A new shirt, towel or bedding was what I desired to make first as paper was rather a commodity. But before any of these plans could have been fulfilled the plants had to mature and I had to learn to be patient once again.

Fortunately (or not), Achâk decided to guide me into the magnificent realm of healing herbs and this distracted me for quite some time. It was a frustrating journey and one that demanded perfect memory from me, which was not always possible. I had days when nothing really appealed to me and I wanted to just lie in the sun and do nothing all day long. But that was not the Druedain way of life and their idea of fun. Still, knowing how to ease a headache or two came handy. Naturally there were all sorts of injuries demanding attention – from scrapes, cuts and sprains to sore throats. And there were painful periods too.

I had few of my painkillers the first time around and the lingering effects of the pill made it milder; the second time unfortunately not anymore. I had feared what would happen and my fears were not entirely unfounded. The cramps in the first two days were unbearable and I threw up my entire breakfast as my body seemed to fight itself. My hands were shaking and I was white as a sheet which alarmed the men until they knew what it was all about. I believe they thought I had poisoned myself or something similar, but I wish it were that and not the embarrassing fact that I did not react well to my periods.

I had spent two days in bed, only going to the 'toilets' to empty the menstrual cup. I shuddered to imagine what would have happened if I did not have it with me. Washing rags was not something I imagined to go through when I was feeling like shit anyway. But the week was over quite quickly after those two days from hell and I was back on my feet -mostly because I had learned how to prepare a mild painkiller from Achâk. It had helped to take off the edge, but sadly did not work wonders like modern medicine. It got flushed out of the body far too quickly and tasted really bad too – like every other of his medicines seemed to. But it did wonders for headaches, so, I guess I was a special case on those days.

One cup of that stuff was thrust at me when I had barely opened my eyes some day in late May.

"How is my favourite sister today?" inquired Nawat. The sun was blazing through the opened doors of the hut directly onto my bed. I just blearily opened my eyes and grunted in reply. "Oh, come on, wake up…" he gently encouraged me.

"Ok, ok…I'm awake…" I grumbled. There were numerous chores to be done, so I had to wake even when I wished to spend the day in bed, basking in my misery as I did the previous day. The men knew to go easy on me and gave me chores I could do without much discomfort. I stayed mostly at the camp, cooking or tidying things up. Perhaps even go gather wood if I felt up to it. But today was not one of those days – the hellish week was almost over. And since my periods once again got irregular as hell, I could safely assume to have two pain-free months before me.

So I sat up and drank the cup that would take care of any cramps or at least make them less noticeable. But I expected to brave the day without painkillers anyway.

Nawat nodded with satisfaction as I returned it. "Good," he said. "We must prepare the meat for the first group," he informed me as he went to the fireplace to prepare my breakfast while I changed my clothes and washed my face with the water poured in a wooden bowl at the small terrace.

I just grunted in reply at first, but the cold water cleared my head and flushed away the last remnants of sleepiness from my face. "Oh, right. I almost forgot," I replied as I remembered the plan. A smaller group of men was to return back home and a give them news about me and find out what was going on in the world, more exactly from Gondor.

"Do you think they would mind if I'd give each something in return for their help?" I asked as I joined him at the fire and we ate our breakfast at a leisurely pace.

"No, I think this is a good idea," he nodded with a smile. "What do you have in mind?"

I chewed thoughtfully, "I thought I could paint something on a piece of bark – something similar to the paintings on the wall perhaps?" I told him and frowned as I voiced my reservation. "It's small enough, but I think it's too fragile for the long journey to the village."

Nawat nodded after a moment, "I agree – you should use leather instead. If we add a small cord it could be tied to a pouch or the bowl of poison. That would be best, I think."

"Yeah, then that's what I'll do. Thank you." I smiled at him and took his bowl – I'd wash it with the others that waited for me in a small basket.

He just nodded in response, perhaps thinking about the small collection of paintings I had stashed in my special basket. I was still experimenting with making paper from other plants whenever I had time since my stash was almost gone, but luckily I had decided to use bark and wood early on in my artistic pursuits. Leather was a commodity I could scarcely afford to use up for painting anyway – there were clothes, pouches and other useful things to be made from it. I had a rabbit skin ready, so it was easy enough to make six small gifts from it in the few days till they would depart. But now I had to go with Nawat to our 'local salt mine' and bring more of the precious crystals to our storage. We had to prepare venison and storage other meat too. The men would need a lot of provision for their journey.

I just grabbed the pouch I had prepared the previous day, my bow and arrows, slipped on soft leather-sole shoes and followed Nawat to the forest. We made just a short stop at a cold brook to fill our water-skins, but then it was a long journey to the hidden spot. As the day was warm and sunny I enjoyed walking in the cool shade of the trees. The ground was soft where leaves covered it and we could find prints beneath them where soil had remained moist enough. But we did not have time to pay them much attention. It was still a few hours walk to our destination and more hard work to get salt out of the walls. I'd have time then to look out for fresh game. A pheasant or two would be a nice addition to our dinner, I thought.

As the day turned into its second half and the sun began its journey towards west again, we were just a few yards away from the small hidden salt source. We slowed our pace and smiled at each other in satisfaction. I was looking forward to a splash of cold water and a bite of some sort of omelette Nawat had prepared, but most desired was a bathroom break.

"Just give me your bow – I'll wait for you by the beech tree," he told me as I excused myself. I quickly disappeared behind a cluster of trees and where a small incline hid me from sight. I first removed leaves and dug a small hole to better cover up my activities then used water to wash my hands before going near my clothes. It did not take me long to finish and return back.

"I see you got comfortable," I chuckled when I saw him lounge beneath the tree, eating his share of the meal. Too busy chewing to give any reply he just patted the space beside him and gestured at the bowl which was already half empty. "And quite stuffed already too," I playfully reprimanded, yet that only called forth a large smile on his face as he reached for another bite.

"I have to fortify myself for the hard work," he told me the same old excuse he used with everyone when his favourite dish was served.

"Uhuh, try that with someone else, buddy," I said and promptly put a nicely sized piece into my mouth.

Thus we polished the bowl, playfully fighting for the last piece of the omelette. As usual it was he who won it, but I had some dried meat with me that I chewed on when he refreshed himself with cold water. I suddenly noticed the birds had stopped singing - and that was a while ago. We were enjoying ourselves too much to notice it sooner, I suppose. But it was most peculiar as they usually ended their concertos only late in the evening. We exchanged a look.

"Finish eating, I'll look around a bit," he told me as he stood up, but I was not going to just sit there if there was something wrong. It could as well be a false alarm, but it was better to be cautious.

"Wait," I hissed and quickly packed everything. He had moved deeper into the forest to a space giving him a better vantage point over the area. He was searching for the reason of the sudden change, but I doubted he could see it here where so many bushes grew and closed off his sight. I touched his arm as I joined him there. "Should we climb up?" I asked and nicked with my head in the direction of the cliffs.

He though about my suggestion just for a second, then nodded in consent. We quickly moved to the rocky and steep path which led to the salt. When we have come about halfway up, Nawat suddenly hissed a curse and knelt down by a tall tree that grew in one of the wide cracks of the rock formation. And there it was – fresh wolf tracks and droppings.

"Get higher up, Megan," he told me in a whisper as he inspected the evidence. We thought they had moved on, yet it was not so. The wolves were still in the forest. "Find a tree we can climb. They must not have gone far and the wind blows in their direction, I imagine."

"How much time do we have?" I asked.

"Not much," was his answer.

"Do we have enough to get to that big oak? It's got wider branches than all other trees and the hole before it should help us too, if we get in trouble," I told him.

"We are already in trouble, Meg," he told me and as if just to confirm his words a howl was heard. I blanched, fear creeping in my veins and turning my blood ice cold. This was not good – not good at all!

Before I could completely recover my wits, Nawat was dragging me behind him up the steep path. We ran on the narrow and slippery way as fast as we could, but I still felt it was not fast enough. Bruises and scratches began to cover my arms as I bumped into rocks or got snagged by thorny bushes in my haste. Nawat's grip was so strong on my wrist I was sure I'd have a bruise in the shape of his fingers by the time we'd get to the tree. And amidst all this rush and chaos of emotions, howls were getting louder and louder. This made my legs even faster until I was out of breath completely.

"Get up!" Nawat cried as we reached the tree and I had no idea where he got his breath from - I could only pant. Still, I grabbed a hold of the stone cliffs and balanced myself on the edge of the hole into which the tree's magnificent roots were disappearing. Caution was of outmost importance as nobody would survive a fall. Waiting for me to get across and covering my back with the bow, Nawat risked his life staying on that side.

"Climb! Grab that branch over there!" he called to me as I had safe ground beneath my feet again.

"You get here first!" I demanded. He had to relent as it was only logical to do - even when his protective instincts told him to get me safe first. Well, I was not going to leave him there to face the wolves alone. He was my friend for God's sake! How could I leave anyone down there?!

It was me who covered his back now and before we even got time enough to argue about my actions, we were climbing up the tree when it got clear the wolves were really not that far away from us. Urgency shut his protests up and I was glad for it. I really had neither time nor the inclination to listen to them right now. I was afraid, angry and my body hurt where I collided with boulders and rocks. Nawat quickly offered his hands to push me up so I could grab a hold of the lowest branch and drag myself up. The bark dug into my hands' skin most painfully as I managed to get higher. I'm not sure I would have managed this as easily as I did now when my body was used to all kinds of physical activity. I leaned down to grab hold of Nawat's pack as he climbed up by himself and needed free hands for it.

"What the hell made them turn back here of all places?!" I grumbled as we decided to get even higher up and anger won over fear – at least marginally.

"Who knows why – it is unfortunate we decided to get here today…" he replied as he looked for any sign of the loud beasts. "I knew I should have taken someone with me…" he muttered just as I thought something similar. _Damn._ _Why do I get into these situations? Why? _They were almost there – the howls were louder than anything I've ever heard come form a mouth of a dog. But then the stench came with them too. I could not describe it, but it was awful – a mixture of smells that I have never smelt before (and really wished to never encounter again). I shuddered.

"I think this is a good spot," said Nawat, startling me, "we can shoot arrows at them and they can't reach us even if they jumped from the cliffs up there."

"They'd jump too?!" I demanded and he only grimaced in reply. "Holy mother of… what'll we do if we have to spend the night up here?" A queasy feeling settled in my stomach and I felt decidedly ill imagining such ordeal.

"We'll just have to tie ourselves to the trunk and one will have to be guard," was the dry reply. I could only sigh at that. "Ghân will come and inspect things only in the next morning, so you better find a comfortable place and prepare for a long, long day… and an even longer night."

"Well, thank you for keeping my spirits up," I told him as a gruesome and victorious howl rang out, making my hairs stand on end. They had arrived.

A first black beast emerged and I sucked in my breath – it was _huge_! But its eyes were even more terrifying than anything else – bloodthirsty and merciless. I could hardly believe I really saw these emotions in them, but it was true – they were far more intelligent than one gave them credit for, I suppose. At least no European would believe them to be aggressive towards humans without some cause. Yet, being human was enough for these monsters here and I really was not exaggerating. It was a beast, not an animal.

"Shit…" I squeaked, feeling panic seep into my veins. The tree was not high enough in my opinion – nothing could be safe enough now that I saw them. Only now I understood why the men were so weary of my pendant at first – having such a dark guarding spirit was nothing to be proud or happy about.

"This is a wolf?!" I asked Nawat as even more of the beasts ran up the path and joined in a chorus of loud howling. They sniffed around, searching for our tracks even when they knew very well we were hiding somewhere up in the tree. I knew they knew – how could I miss the looks they shot at our hiding space, their determination to get us?

"Yes, they are. And we better watch out – they'll try to come over," he warned me as he notched an arrow. "Only shoot when you have a clear shot and the beast is not moving around too much. Better not waste arrows – we might need them yet."

"Aye, aye, captain!" I replied nervously and prepared. _It's just a new sort of hunt, Meg – nothing to be worried about. Just miss one and we're doomed… yes, nothing to be worried about at all…_ I told myself, but then focused as Nawat nudged me with his foot. He got a nasty look for that one, but I was glad he got me out of my panic – for now.

Our best chance to hit one was when they howled as they stood still. But I had a hunch this tactic won't work for long – they were smart…at least smarter than usual wolves.

"Ok, you miserable beasts, here's a wolf that won't give up so easily…" I muttered as Nawat got a first hit. The howling just rose up a notch, making adrenaline spike in my veins, but my hand was steady as I took aim at a large animal preparing for a jump over the hole.

"Oh, no, you won't," I said as my arrow flew true – I got it just beside its neck. It was not a fatal wound but the black beast won't be jumping and running about anymore, that was for sure. "I hope your shoulder hurts like hell…" I grumbled and notched another arrow. I had to fell one this time. There were only twenty arrows I could use.


	18. Fire and Smoke

**A/N: Long time and no updates - I'm really sorry for leaving you hanging like this. This year turned out to be a bit on the bad side for creative writing, but very productive in ther areas. Well, I suppose I'll have to change the first part.**

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Chapter Sixteen: Arrows vs. Fire

or: How to get out of a sticky situation

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Nawat and I were sitting high up on the branches of the largest tree in the area, the dark beasts of Middle Earth growling and salivating beyond the large hole separating them from the base of the old oak. We've already fired four arrows at them, Nawat having better luck with his shots than I – he killed two of them, getting one in the neck and the other in the flank, but I injured just one. It was not that I missed the other on purpose, but the beasts were really fast. Firing arrows at them only made the damned wolves even angrier and bloodthirsty than before. I wondered if it had been such a good idea to shoot when we were safe up in the tree, but there was no way to find out now. They were out for _our_ blood.

As my count stood there were at least fifteen of the beasts prowling around, some hiding behind rocks since first arrows had been shot. Still, they were even more determined to wait out for us to make a mistake (or run out of water, food… anything to make us risk climbing down, I suppose). I had a feeling that a sore bottom would sooner make me do something foolish than the previous reasons – the branch I sat on was highly uncomfortable! But this made me only curse under my breath more and more as time moved on. It was not fair I had to hide up a tree _and_ have my period to boot!

Nawat saw thunderclouds gathering on my face, so he wisely kept any comments or wise suggestions to himself for the time being. But there was really nothing to talk about – the situation was far too tense. Huffing now and then in anger as I couldn't find a position that would not cut off the circulation in one of my legs, time seemed to pass by with torturing slowness. The wolves were spreading out now, leaving only few who hid behind rocks to guard us, I suppose. Only an hour passed since we climbed up and yet I was dying for a nice warm seat and the peace and quiet of our clearing. Just as I changed my position and massaged my leg to get blood flowing again, the beasts gathered their courage and crawled out of their hiding places.

"Watch out," hissed Nawat as he notched an arrow with startling speed. I barely had time to follow his example when two young wolves turned towards our tree with determination not seen before. "The right one's mine," he commanded, knowing I would cover the other one. "Now!" cried Nawat as they lunged forward to jump over the large hole. I barely managed to let go of the string.

Two arrows hit their marks with startling strength. The bronze arrowheads cut through skin and muscles like a warm knife through butter – the bows were deadly accurate at close range even on quick targets. The impact and torn tendons made the animals stumble and roll with their momentum on the dusty ground to fall directly into the deep pit. Their howls of pain as they hit rocky walls until landing several metres below with broken bones and deathly internal injuries were horrifying in their shortness. I had no love lost for them, but the sounds tugged at my heartstrings nonetheless.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins at the realisation that they could have easily made it over to our tree. I could barely process the thought that we had just escaped a possible disaster. No, the tree was definitely _not_ a safe place.

"Damn, damn and damned again…" I muttered in shock. There was nothing else to do but cling to a thick branch to stop my hands from trembling. The wolves had started up a deafening cry for their pack mates - a cry that seemed to call forth even more of the beasts from the forest where there were none at all before.

I shivered with fear.

My hands grabbed another arrow and positioned it to get anyone too close for my comfort. I could not trust them to stay there… no, never. They would jump again, I firmly believed in my mind.

"Megan, stop," said Nawat as my first arrow flew and ricocheted from a boulder, missing its target by a distance I should have been ashamed of in any other circumstances.

When I did not heed his words, but only gripped my bow tighter with another arrow in position, Nawat had to reach across the branches to lay a warm hand on my arm. He had to stop me, but I did not truly understand him at the time. With fear and terror in my eyes I turned, demanding he let go. But he would not – he had faced similar odds before and knew what ice-cold fear could do when one gave into it. And I had done exactly that.

This was a scenario from my darkest nightmares. How could I possibly stand the pressure, the sounds and smells permeating the air? I lost control over myself and the situation. Once again I felt I was prey and the feeling of terror, which had given me wings to fly across the forest in pursuit of safety months ago, awoke in me anew. But now I could not stand this horrible helpless feeling numbing my limbs – I knew what power tasted like, had felt total control over life and death and relished it… And all this now lay in the hands of the wolves.

Nawat tried to calm me down, but I could not believe his words when he uttered them. "They've learnt the lesson - they won't jump again," he said, like it would take just an assumption to calm me down. I needed facts! Guarantees!

When tears started to gather in my eyes, Nawat quickly climbed over with alarm written on his face. He cursed as he was reminded I was just a girl who stumbled into his world and not a fellow weathered soldier as his friends. I never had to fear animals, but now… It was too much. Gathering me in his arms in a comforting hug, he soon crooned a song to calm me down even when his embrace alone settled my nerves quite a bit. "It's going to be alright, girl. We'll get safe back home," he promised.

"I know…" I whispered as I got the urge to cry under control. Only two tears had escaped to run down my cheeks and I quickly reached out to wipe them away. "I'll be strong now," I told him but he only hummed the song over and over again until he was sure I had truly calmed down. Perhaps he needed the hug just as much as I did – no doubt he felt responsible for the situation and the danger we were in.

"You already are strong," he replied as he let go with an encouraging smile. "Now…Let's decide who's got to watch them for the first hour. What say you if I take the first shift?" he asked. I guess he thought I would feel better if I had at least some say in the matter.

"Sounds good," I replied and moved closer to the trunk of the tree. It was like I've been drained of all energy and sleep was the only thing I could think of. Thus I missed Nawat's concerned look.

"Take a blanket from my pack and bundle up. Rest a bit while I take care of our unwelcome guests, alright?" he said quietly.

"Alright," I muttered and did as he had suggested. My mind was in no condition to think rationally anymore – at least for a short while until it got some rest from all the drama. Being stuck in one place and incapable of moving away from the danger was not making things any easier on me.

I took the blanket and carefully moved to another broad branch and settled down close to the trunk. Facing Nawat, I leaned on the trunk with my right side and let my legs dangle freely. Hopefully, this was the most comfortable position I could ever find. I did not imagine I would fall into a light slumber as quickly as I did, but perhaps it was better so.

I awoke when the beasts got louder again. A yelp was what had alarmed me at first, cutting through my sleep and propelling me into wakefulness. I was disoriented as I opened my eyes but Nawat was there immediately. "Steady," he whispered and took hold of my arm to keep me from tumbling down when I startled. "We're still up the oak…"

"Oh…" I muttered as my mind cleared and I grabbed hold of the trunk in reflex. Damn, but I hated heights – especially when I just woke up. Then I noticed the scent of fresh blood in the air. "What happened?" I immediately demanded, worried about him.

"I injured two more when they tried to jump. They won't last long, though. Their wounds are too serious," he explained and I let out a sigh of relief. "Come and look yourself," he prompted.

We moved back to our battle positions which held a better view of the path and the wolves. When peeking between branches two wolves were seen lying beside the rocks, still alive, but gravely injured. Others sniffed around them, but there were not as many as before, I suddenly noticed.

Nawat saw my eyebrows furrow and guessed what bothered me. "Most of them have gone into the forest, but I doubt they've gone far," he said. I nodded – somehow it made sense they would not stay this close all the time. Well, if it were up to me I'd gladly see them gone altogether. "We can't risk going down just yet," he explained, "even if we killed off the ones waiting here, there are still too many in the vicinity." I just nodded - we did not have enough arrows or time to tackle the entire pack. I wondered if that was a good or a bad thing yet the answer eluded me.

We brooded together for a while, keeping our eyes on the beasts, but there was not much activity to keep us occupied the entire time. I was soon bored to death, even when an underlying current of healthy fear was present in my mind. Some time later I grimaced then swore as I saw by the length of the shadows just how much longer we would have to stay in the tree.

"Fuck, it truly will be a night up here, won't it?" I asked him with bitterness colouring my voice.

"It seems so," he replied with a weary sigh then chuckled at my unusual use of a profanity. "Hmm, it seems I haven't learnt all about you yet…" he teased and I felt a heavy burden fall off my shoulders as the usual banter between us was renewed.

"Ha, ha – you haven't even scratched the surface," I told him then began a competition of who would come up with the best description for the foul beasts. It didn't come as a surprise that he won – I had not learned enough swear words or foul adjectives to be a worthy adversary. Once we had relaxed I just had to look more rationally at our odds.

"How much water do we have?" I asked as I gingerly touched my hair –the braids were mused from sleep.

"Enough, I should hope. But let us not worry about it," said he. I could only shake my head – it was typically Nawat. He would sooner let me drink the rest of our reserve than complain about thirst. I was determined to not let him do that, no matter how kindly it was meant. At least we got a water-skin each – it _should_ be enough.

"We'll make it," he comforted – both of us, I suppose. "I trust my father will find a way to get us back." He moved closer to the trunk. "You'll keep an eye on them won't you?" he asked.

"I will – rest well," I promised and he closed his eyes. We had to preserve our energy for the night – who knew what the wolves would get up to when our eyesight was ten times worse than theirs. Taking turns was our chance to get through the night… At least, I hoped it would be enough.

"God, what wouldn't I give for some help right now…" I muttered, not knowing that by the time dusk fell on the forest someone was informed of our predicament. Who could have known that a small bird would rush to inform his friend about the wolves and their prey who had disrupted his nest's peace? And thus Radagast the Brown learned what was happening in the mountains while he warmed beside the fire at the last Beacon.

**OoOoO Druadan OoOoO**

It was the middle of the night – the small smattering of stars I could see when I moved away a branch seemed to mockingly remind me of my holidays spent hiking in the mountains. Well, the growling erased all fancy ideas, but somehow I've got almost used to it by now (not that much to the smell, but one can't be too picky about favours).

The sudden sound of claws on bark made me sigh once again. We've had to move higher up the tree ever since one damned beast managed the almost impossible thing – it took advantage of the time we were not paying attention and got over the hole. Perhaps we should have concentrated on them rather than fashion reserve arrows from branches Nawat cut from the tree. The wolf tried in vain to climb up, making enough noise to prevent me from closing an eye. I was tired, but the constant reminder of danger did not allow me to let my guard down. However, this tiredness was far more dangerous since it affected my dexterity and speed of reaction. Perhaps I could compare this situation to driving a car with no sleep or rest the previous night – I was sure something bad was to come out of it, but that was still not enough to let me rest.

"You're not sleeping?" whispered Nawat. He had napped on and off for a few hours now, so he was quite alert. I guess he knew I'd succumb to fatigue sometime soon, so he rested to be able to take over my watch. Or he was just bored out of his mind like me and thought a nap would make time go by faster.

_Lucky bastard, _I grumbled inside my mind, and just shook my head at his question.

A few moments later I let go of the branch and it snapped to its position with loud rustling of leaves. It made the wolves perk up with curiosity, but their hopes of getting to us were dashed – we were not stupid to climb down for Heaven's sake. Feeling goose bumps appear on my skin when the wind picked up again and brought with it the freshness of late spring, there was nothing to do but climb over to Nawat and let him wrap me in his arms and warm blanket. It was getting colder and colder ever since the sun had set behind the peaks. My stomach made its emptiness known for we only had a meagre dinner because the remaining food had been rationed with the thoughtfulness of a war survivor. Calling myself names for not taking more food with me did not change my stomach's fate, but at least no one was left thirsty. I did hate bathroom brakes with all of my passion – who in the world has ever seen the likes of it?! I swore to never complain about the primitive latrine at our camp or the usual tedious practices in the woods ever again, if just to spare me the experience of a tree bathroom break. One was quite enough.

Safely cocooned and immersed in the feeling of safety Nawat provided such thoughts fled from my mind. I focused on the positive side of the situation and Nawat shared my sentiments. At least we got each other to rely on – and being stuck with him was not so bad after all. We were friends and in the long hours spent together we were able to talk about many things we had not had the chance to speak of before. It did not take me long to feel drowsy as he warmed my chilled flesh, so our short conversation gave way to silence. Leaning on him I waited for daylight that was still few hours away. There was hope hidden in the rays of light – it always made me feel better.

It was not much later that the wolves got restless. At first we thought nothing of it, but as they suddenly turned in the direction of the forest and took off with a battle cry that made our hairs stand on end, we knew something was afoot.

"Are they…?" I wondered, hoping and fearing the men had come, but Nawat shook his head in the negative immediately.

"No – it's too soon and they wouldn't try anything in the night…" he told me with conviction. "I have no idea what set the beasts off – they might have found some game to hunt… but somehow I doubt it," he muttered, his brows furrowing. He gently let go of me and slipped from the blanket to move to a branch giving him a better view of the forest. There was little chance he would actually _see_ anything in the dark, but he could still hear good enough to discern what was happening.

The howling had been exchanged for deep rumbling growls that promised death to whatever being foolish enough to find itself on the wrong side of the beasts. We barely heard it as it was quite a long way up here from the forest, but it seemed that a fight was about to begin. I remembered very well how it had been meant for me not so long ago and really did not wish to be in the soon-to-be-victim's position.

"If only I could find out whom they are attacking…" muttered Nawat with concern, convinced it was a human the wolves cornered. I could only turn incredulous eyes towards him - he could not be serious! I knew his kind heart good enough to know he was considering jumping to that person's rescue even at the cost of his own life.

"You can't!" I exclaimed in a sharp hiss. "They'd eat you alive before you even got there!"

"I know. I still wish it were otherwise," was his calm reply.

With a sigh I agreed that I too would have gladly helped in any other circumstances, but this was pure suicide. There _were _wolves hiding behind boulders and further down the path, after all. But as soon as I worded this sentiment, we got our first whiff of smoke. Then all turned into a chaos of howls and battle cries.

"Soldiers!" hissed Nawat with alarm as he recognized the language of the orders and saw the unmistakable sight of fiery arrows that started small fires and lighted up the clearing where the fighting started. He quickly climbed to perch before me. "We have to hide Meg," he whispered as he reached for the quiver of arrows held in my hands. Soldiers of Gondor and Rohan were enemies of the Druadan, so his fears were well-founded. The dead wolves with idiosyncratic arrows sticking out of their hides were dead give-aways of our presence should the men come this far – and this far they would surely come when following wolves' tracks.

I could barely see Nawat's face in the shade of the leaves, but fear was etched into it with far more strength than when we faced wolves alone.

_Oh, crap! _

"What should we do?" I asked with a hammering heart as the sounds only intensified and the dry pine needles littering the ground of the forest caught on fire, consuming the kindling and spreading to the bushes. "There's no way we can slip past the beasts."

The remaining guards were nervously turning in circles – their desire to join the fight unmistakable, but the sense of revenge and stubbornness prevented them to abandon their posts and let us slip away. But even if they moved away – we'd still be unable to elude them for long. However, we could not possibly stay in the tree and be sitting ducks for the soldiers and the fire that would herd together the beasts.

_There is no way we'd get out of here alive…_echoed in my mind for a moment before icy determination replaced doubts. Nawat would know what to do and I'd do my best to not hinder him.

"Count them," he ordered me as he climbed higher up. I knew better than to question him and find out what he had in mind. There was no time.

The meagre light revealed four beasts but there might have been more. The biggest problem was the one at the base of our oak – it was almost impossible to hit it. Fortunately, this 'almost' gave Nawat a large enough possibility that he tried something quite daring. I was startled when one of the newly-made arrows flew in a straight line between branches to nick the beast below. He must have found a branch large enough to hold his weight which was in the right position above the wolf while I was sleeping. But he had to lie on it to get the right angle – how in the world did he do it?

The wolf gave a pathetic whimper once it jumped away than lied still on the ground.

"Poison?" I questioned Nawat when he climbed down. It interested me why he had chosen to use it now when he had not done so before.

"We don't have the time to wait and the soldiers would know about our identity anyway. We need to escape –and quickly," he said as we took positions to take care of the remaining wolves, who were smart enough to hide once the deadly arrows appeared again to finish off their comrade. The wind brought more and more soot and smoke to the cliffs and our oak. It was a _large_ fire burning now. I feared the smoke would get thicker when consuming resin-rich pine trees growing in the area. Being burned alive or choking to death was not what I had in mind as the cause of my death.

"Give me your arrow," he commanded. He dipped its tip in the small bowl of poison and carefully gave it back. Gloves or some other sort of protection would be standard gear when handling such dangerous weapon for the first time, but we did not have time to search for a substitute protection. Skill and steady nerves alone would have to protect me from being nicked.

"Take the outer left one… centre… now!"

The arrow did not make a direct hit, but the smallest amount of poison was enough to slow down then kill the beast. It was a bit harder to dispatch the remaining one, but we managed once it appeared again when we climbed down. I sure was glad Nawat had gone down first – no way would I have been able to react as fast as he did. Now we stood in a small place littered with wolf carcases.

"The fire's getting bigger – do you think the wolves will turn back?" I asked Nawat as we grabbed the few things we had and stripped it to our backs, myself very determined to not look at the dark lumps.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, "We have to get away – the wind blows in our direction!" he said as he pushed me towards the cliffs.

Somehow we made it over the hole safely even in the dark, but our troubles did not end there. The battle seemed to be winding down, yet the greedy flames continued to swallow parts of the forest. We had to use the path to get higher up where there were fewer trees and bushes and more sheer rocks that would stop the advancing fire. However, this was dangerous too as we were unprotected from assaults of any beasts that would manage to return and find out where we disappeared to. Hopefully smoke would help us here even if it was dangerous in its own way. Once we were at the small hole where salt was to be found, we were stuck.

"Stay here and look out," he told me, "I'll try to find a way to get us to the upper level."

"Good luck!" I said, fervently hoping he would be successful. The path would be dangerous, I knew, but I was not sure if it would reach the forest above the cliffs. It was still a better idea to move forward than to remain in place. And that sentiment only got stronger as more smoke and soot were brought to my hiding place. I could hardly look at the path as my eyes watered and I had to blink constantly. My cough was a dead give away too.

Some time later Nawat returned among the black smoke.

"The fire is getting _this_ way, isn't it?!" was what I got out of my mouth.

He only squeezed my shoulder, not needing to answer this particular question. "I found a path, but it is difficult. Smoke gets thicker there – don't worry though - after ten or so steps it gets slightly better. We must try it. It does not lead where we want to go, but it's far enough from the fire."

I nodded, thinking hard. "We must protect ourselves," I said, eyeing the pieces of cloth we had in our pack. We had enough water to wet them so they would filter smoke better than when dry. "Wrap it tightly," I instructed and knotted the fabric at the back of my head. The relief I felt was unmistakable, but it was far from an ideal solution. A wet cloth will get you only so far to alleviate the danger.

Nawat had to help me among the ragged rocks and boulders as I was hardly able to follow at his speed, but even he was affected by the circumstances. Gone was his surefootedness, his iron strength… I could barely see anything among tears streaming down my face, wracked by coughs. We could hear the cracking of burning trees, feel the heat emanate from the giant fire, but after a few tense minutes we were past the screen of thick smoke. I collapsed at a boulder, coughing so hard I thought I would expel my own lungs in the process. My eyes hurt, my lungs hurt and my throat was on fire. I was covered in soot that clung to sweat and got only more smudged after I removed the wet cloth.

"Megan, come…" urged Nawat when he managed to get some oxygen himself. "It's not… far now."

"Lie… to… someone… else," I managed to wheeze only to get his water skin thrust under my nose. I drank greedily and finally my throat did not feel as raw as before. "God," I groaned, "I can't go on like this… I can't take more of this crap…" I was tired, hungry and felt like shit.

"We have to move," was adamant Nawat.

I glared at his black face. "I know! Give me a break!"

He just hauled me to my feet and with one dark look that told me to shut it. He pushed forward like he was born among the rocks while I clumsily tried to follow his lead, fuming and grumbling in my mind. Soon all my concentration was taken up by the path. I stayed close as we braved the rocky terrain. Someone among our ancestors must have been a mountain goat, I believe, or it was just the will to survive that lend us strength and skill to get forward on this dangerous path.

The first rays of light appeared on the horizon when we finally reached the edge of the woods and climbed down from the rocky terrain. I could have cried in relief as we had safe ground beneath our feet. It was still pretty dark and smoke hung in the air like a veil obscuring the view, but a new day was dawning. Everything was calm. On our right black smoke still billowed above the tree tops, but the fire was loosing it strength.

"Let's go…" said Nawat gently as we finally stopped coughing. We could now return back to our clearing. However, taking the direct route was not advisable – our hands were too weak now to chance the steep climb to the lower level of the forest where the path laid. We had to make a detour, making the journey longer for a few hours. I wondered if taking a chance was not the better option but then changed my mind – we had taken on too many chances already. So we continued forward far above our original path.

"You think the way will be safe for the hunters to go in a few days?" I asked when I thought about the brave men scheduled to return back to the Druadan forest. "Our arrows might have betrayed the entire group," I worried, not knowing our presence was revealed by Radagast the Brown. Even as I asked the question men were advancing towards us.

"Probably," muttered Nawat in return. He tried to calm my worries, "We can't let fear rule our lives, Meg. It's not right," he said. I could only agree with his philosophy.

"What do you say – shall we find a stream to wash the grime away?" he asked. To prove his point he tugged on my dirty clothing and reached out with one finger to show me how soot-covered my face was where he touched it. As if I needed it when he was standing right there in all his dirty glory. It did not take a lot of imagination to apply this picture to me and add an extreme case of bad hair day. What a sight we must have been!

I could not resist making a joke out of the situation – _he_ was as dirty as I was, if not more. "That's the first intelligent thing you said the whole day," I said with my nose stuck in the air. Nawat laughed.

"The day has just begun, my friend," he teased, displaying white teeth which made a beautiful contrast with his own dirty face.

"So it has," I agreed with warmth and we moved forward towards the streams. I hoped a long break there would get my strength up to the level I'd be able to get back home without stumbling at every root sticking out of the earth. But my wishes were not to be heard.

Suddenly Nawat grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me down to the ground while ducking. Before I could turn I saw the reason for his sudden manoeuvre. _Gondorians! … No, not them, just not them!_ "Shit!" escaped my lips in a harsh whisper and a string of unmentionable words followed in my mind. We had been too slow or they had seen us before – now their arrows were pointed at our hiding place.

"Shit, shit, shit…. Nawat! What now?!" I whispered frantically but even he was out of ideas.

One of them called over to us, but again I did not understand a word. But Nawat did and he stiffened, his hand on my shoulder gripping harder. Whatever was said, he became very nervous, maybe even afraid, and that did nothing to calm me down. I just prayed there were no Rangers present.

"_Come out!"_ hollered their leader again. "_We know you are behind that bush, so get out!_"

"_What will prevent you from harming us if we do so_?" retorted Nawat in accented Common tongue - a very good question indeed.

"_I, Valandur, give my word you will come to no harm. We only wish to speak with you,_" the man promised. It took some time before Nawat was convinced of their honesty. That spoke a volume about the bad blood between these nations. And there were also concerns he had about me and what would happen once I was revealed. I was more than just a charge now – I was family.

"Stay behind me and remain quiet," whispered Nawat his instructions urgently. "I'll try to convince them we're harmless hunters… Pretend you're a young man but don't speak loudly – your voice will betray you."

I just nodded nervously, but his idea was good enough. I had long before adopted their women's habit of binding their breasts when going hunting (a bra and its straps were just a bother, and bindings provided me with good protection from the bow-string's backlash), so there was no way they'd know otherwise since my face was covered in soot. Not even my hair could betray me as it was almost as dark as Nawat's. My usual numerous braids – now only a tangled mess – would tell every Druedain I'm a woman, but I doubted the soldiers knew that much about them. Nawat counted on this fact too – and on the briefness of the meeting.

Slowly we stood up, keeping our hands away from weapons to let them know we meant no harm. Nawat moved before me, so that I was protected, and stopped at a distance from their group. We were close enough to speak at a reasonable volume and see their faces clearly, yet still far enough to put an invisible wall between us. Their spokesman, Valandur, started a slow conversation I got only few words of, and even those were Druedain words Nawat slipped into his speech. But the conversation did not interest me for long. The dirty face of the spokesman appeared very familiar to me – too familiar, in fact. My heart stopped for a second, then accelerated its pace.

_It can't be…_

I swiftly averted my eyes. I didn't know what to do, where to look. At last I grabbed a hold of Nawat's clothes and gently tugged. He turned towards me.

"They want information about wolves and orcs from us," he told, mistaking my intention, but then saw my eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I know him…" I whispered back, turning my face away from the Ranger and his men who looked at us in interest. Nawat's brows furrowed as my hold strengthened. "The man you talk to…I know him. He was at the_ canyon_…"

His eyes widened for a fraction. It was the only indicator of surprise he allowed himself. "I'll finish this conversation as quickly as possible…" he promised and I let go of his clothes. He pretended I reminded him of something he could tell and nobody paid much attention to me afterwards.

Minutes passed and Valandur seemed satisfied. Maybe he would have let us go, but my stomach let out an especially loud growl. They realised we were hungry from the night spent on the run, and in some strange twist of fate they wanted to share their food. I cursed under my breath when we were obliged to sit down with them.

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**A/N: Hope you like the chapter - let me know what you think about it :) Lots of Ranger action in next chapters, promised!**


	19. No Mere Pretences

**A/N: Long time since my last update - I apologize. :( Writer's block coupled with RL issues made me abandon this fic for some time. I am back though. :)Since school takes up most of my time expect a chapter a month - the same lenght as before. *Things are getting interesting.* **

**Thanks for everyone who left a review - I appreciate your thoughts and take encouragement from them. :D**

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Chapter Seventeen: No Mere Pretences

**or: How to survive**

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The roaring of my traitorous stomach blew the chance Nawat and I had to get from the men who had cornered us. I could not imagine a worse moment for the stupid and demanding organ to voice his displeasure. Apparently it got fed up with water as the only food source and produced sounds I rarely had the chance to hear before. Even Nawat winced minutely when it repeated its distress call as if to strengthen the men's reluctant offer of food.

Although I was feeling faint with hunger, I did not relish staying near them a minute longer. It had not escaped my notice that only a small number of the soldiers genuinely meant us no harm. If looks were lethal, we would have been dead before cordial words were first exchanged. I just wished to get the hell away from them. So, one could hardly imagine my surprise when Nawat translated the unexpected offer of food and beverage.

_Do they seriously believe we will take it?! _I thought, prepared to turn away but Nawat stopped me with a gesture. He seemed to consider it, much to my surprise.

But he was conflicted and had serious second thoughts about it. If their goodwill was genuine, then this _was_ the proverbial olive branch from the people who usually hunted down his tribe. But I was in considerable danger the longer we were with them. What to do? In the end, he had to accept. It would have looked suspicious to do otherwise and that was apparent even to my muddled brain. I did not know at the time that he was concerned for me – he probably knew I would not manage the long trek home without something to eat and a short rest.

_Man, if that isn't the worst case of bad luck, then I don't know what it is_… I grumbled in my mind as we moved closer in a small circle to avoid a drop in terrain that separated our groups. I felt angry at myself and even more so for taking so few provisions with me the previous day. But nothing of my bad mood could be easily seen on the outside. I could not let my problems affect Nawat while we were in an already stressful situation. It is true that the idea of giving my life into another's hands has always frightened me, but in that moment I placed all my hopes into Nawat. He would get us out alive – of that I had to be sure.

Valandur waited at the head of the camp while the men looked at us with dark eyes. It was clear they thought it unusual to welcome ''the Wilds'' into their midst. I could hardly understand at the time how they could judge us so easily. However, I've never before been the subject of racism. And I did not like being the object of their hate at all! To hide behind Nawat's back never appealed more to me, but I couldn't let them show my fear. I had enough backbone to face them straight on.

Nawat halted his steps just before Valandur and introduced himself for the first time. Funny, how it had slipped my notice that we never gave them our names. Then again, they haven't really asked in the first place. It was kind of rude, but who cared about that when more important things happened to move the focus away from such 'trivial matters'.

"Nawat, hunter of the Oak clan," he stated in his clear voice that held no trace of hesitation in using a foreign language. And in a true Druedain fashion he added, "Chosen by the Fiery fox spirit."

Animal or plant spirits always told Druedain the strengths and failings of the person they protected. In this case, Nawat told them he was quite a dangerous person to meddle with. But his spirit guardian was nothing compared to mine - even though I did not wish to connect with it through a spiritual journey, as he dearly wished for me to do. He had been pushing me more and more to attempt one with Achâk in the past week, but I did not trust the healer nearly enough to even contemplate such a venture. The thought itself scared the crap out of me, frankly – I was never religious and joining a completely unknown faith was out of the question. I participated in some of their everyday rituals, but I had no desire to do more than that. Generally they understood my reasoning, but thought I would greatly benefit by connecting with my spiritual guardian. Too bad I was of a different opinion. But somehow a small grain of doubt took root in my mind now – _would I have more courage to face my fears if I had done it? _Who knew – it was too late now.

With pride for being one of the wonderful people living in the forest I turned my dirty face to look the Ranger in the eyes as Nawat proceeded with introductions.

"Megan, adopted hunter of the Oak clan, chosen by the White wolf spirit," he stated. "He does not speak your tongue, so turn to me if you wish to talk to him," he explained and thus eliminated any possible misunderstandings and attempts to communicate with me.

Valandur seemed satisfied with the way the events unfolded even if the 'spirit thing' slightly puzzled him. I was just glad the men put away their weapons and sat down once this formality was over. The second-in-command stepped closer and gave his name to Nawat, but I did not listen – my attention was grabbed by the soldier who removed a bandage from his arm. At the sight of his torn flesh I couldn't prevent myself from inhaling sharply – it looked positively awful!

Even Nawat could not retain his calm façade when he saw what had unsettled me so, though he was used to similar sights. That poor man had certainly had an unfortunate meeting with a wolf – either his teeth or claws. Even though he had a neat row of stitches keeping his flesh together, the injury swelled badly. The dark bruises did not add to the beauty of the picture (if there is any to be found in injuries, that is).

"Do you have herbs to tend to the man?" was Nawat's immediate question – we both were people who could not see others suffer and do nothing to alleviate their pain.

"We have enough between ourselves for now, but I won't deny I'd be far happier if we had more willow bark at hand," replied Valandur honestly as he gestured Nawat to take a seat. I was quite surprised he admitted that - perhaps our concern had caught him unprepared. "Most men will need more in the next days and our reserves are getting low," he told us. "If you know where to find a suitable willow near, I'd be grateful."

Only a look was needed between Nawat and me to understand we were thinking along the same lines when he translated the Ranger's words.

With tired movements I disposed of my bow and quiver and placed my pack on the ground. I pulled out a smaller bundle made of deer leather and opened it before the curious eyes of the men. There was a small jar with willow bark powder that I carried with myself at all times ever since I mastered the preparation of the drink. My 'emergency pack' was substantively larger than any the Druedain carried with them since I was still a paranoid European at heart. My reserves were probably big enough to take care of three injured men for two days. Therefore there was a jar marked by a simple etching of a wolf paw on it among the cotton bags.

"I'm truly glad you carry all this with you," told me Nawat as he reached for it. I just tiredly offered him a smile in agreement.

He turned to Valandur and removed the lid. The Ranger's face lighted up and the men looked at the amount with some surprise. The finely ground powder was of great quality and worth quite a sum in these remote parts of the world. It was of the more potent variety too – no one could ever accuse Achâk of not knowing his trade and me of not being an attentive pupil.

"This willow bark powder was prepared by one of our best healers. It should be enough for all of you for today," he informed the Ranger in whose hands he placed the entire jar. Valandur seemed to be speechless at the generosity. The norm was to share only a small amount – as much it is needed for a few cups, no more. Judging by his expression, he was searching for a way to refuse – at least half of the amount in order to not insult Nawat.

But Nawat was quick to prevent that: "For your help with the wolves," he said. "They were circling these parts for months and we feared a fight would be inevitable."

"It is still too generous a gift, my friend," said Valandur with warmth and his second-in-command was nodding emphatically in agreement.

"We have more than enough and are not in need of it - _you_ are," Nawat said, looking at the injured.

An unreadable look settled on Valandur's face, but he accepted the jar. "Thank you," he said and let a man with some skill in medicine take it. A few orders were given and the entire camp was suddenly in a flurry of activity. Some went to fetch water, others collected branches and logs to prepare a fire, and some took care of the food and wounds. As we watched them go in every direction, we observed they seemed not to know what to make of us now that we turned out to be halfway decent people, but at least their looks lost some of the usual hard glint. However, I wouldn't dare to say they trusted us any more than before. These were dark times.

Valandur asked us to put down our things near him and he himself deposited several of his belongings. Both of us took time to carefully inspect our pouches and water-bags for damage. My clothing had a few rips, but I had not lost any belongings since my pouch was ok.

I was just carefully wrapping up my medicine bag when Valandur unexpectedly presented us with a rough piece of soap and a rag. "You would like to wash before you eat, wouldn't you?" he asked Nawat as he saw my surprised face and totally misunderstood the cause of it. I just did not believe he could think we would eat in this filthy state – no matter how hungry I were, there was no way to make me eat with dirty hands if there was a stream nearby.

As taking care of our appearances and minor scrapes was something Nawat and I were planning on doing anyway, he accepted the soap, but declined the offer of a washcloth. Personal hygiene was taken quite seriously by the Druedain and from the look of that rag the entire company had already made use of it. _And they think the Druedain uncivilised! _I had to add in my mind.

"Please, tell me you have a clean cloth in your pack," muttered Nawat as he politely declined the offending piece.

"I have," I told him in the deepest voice I could manage. "Do you think we should take our soap too?" I wondered. _Maybe we could teach those soldiers a thing or two about proper hygiene while we were here._

"Bring everything," he commanded when I opened my pack and searched for the requested items. "You do still have a small pot of black paint, don't you?" he asked quite unexpectedly.

I nodded slowly, not sure I followed his line of thought. _What would he need it for?_ I wondered as my eyes darted again in the direction of the Ranger who stood up to help with the injured. It was in my pack only because I had used it when camouflage was necessary on a hunt and never removed it. Then it hit me – I had to somehow disguise my face after we would wash away the soot. _Oh, how ingenious! _was my first thought after relief swept through me.

"I do," I told him after I got everything I deemed necessary and handed him the fresh cloth. Well, relatively fresh – it had a slight smell of smoke on it, but it was definitely cleaner than that one or the two rags we had on during the climb.

Nawat excused us and we moved to a nearby stream where several men had already filled their water-skins and were returning to camp. He washed first, taking care to thoroughly clean the scrapes and nicks covering his hands and arms. Getting his hair untangled was quite a bit of work, but together we managed to get it presentable. Nothing short of a thorough washing could help our clothes, so we didn't bother too much with them. He quickly dried off and I crouched down to paint black lines and dots on his face. He then helped me with my hair – the tangled braids were a mess, but his patience paid off. I had quite a collection of bruises on my arms and legs, but my hands took the brunt of abuse when we were climbing those cliffs.

"This needs a salve," he declared when he saw the angry marks and scabs. I did not even remember how I got them in the first place. They did sting and throb but so did the rest of my weary body. "I wouldn't want to see them infected," he admonished at the face I made.

"Neither do I, but I think we better hurry back," I told him as I got the first whiff of roasting meat. We did take our time with cleaning up after all and it would have been rude (and even suspicious) to be absent much longer. I was quite nervous someone might come by any time when my face was still without the protective layer of thick paste. Therefore Nawat quickly painted broad lines that disguised feminine traits of my face quite effectively, if the men's reaction was anything to go by. I looked like a boy again – a very young one at best.

"Come, sit with me," beckoned Valandur as we returned. He said nothing about the paint, but a few of the men looked at us in contempt. They probably saw it as just another confirmation of our 'savage' nature and quite forgot about our generosity for the moment. We wisely chose to ignore them. I, for once, was too tired and hungry to even care. My eyes kept drooping without my consent and my legs felt like lead.

Nawat gracefully sank to the ground next to Valandur, as confident as ever and appearing none worse for the wear. He patted the free spot to his left and there I somehow collapsed into a sitting position. My energy reserves were utterly spent and he was just quick enough to help me steady my descent. I had stumbled on our way from the stream too many times for his comfort, so he had kept a watchful eye on me. I must have been deathly pale under the paint - I did feel extremely lethargic all of a sudden.

Valandur was alarmed: "How long were you in the smoke?" he asked sharply, concern and a veiled hint of guilt in his voice as he rushed to my side. I shrank back from him in fright before I could curb my instinct, but this small action was enough to hurt his feelings – he was only trying to help after all. He was hoping to form a sort of understanding between his and Nawat's people, as Gandalf has inspired him to do. He did not expect fear to put a dent in his plans.

"I doubt it's the smoke – he was not affected by it before," was Nawat's concerned reply as he carefully looked at my face to gauge the truthfulness of the statement. I was usually in good form, but after that one fright with my period, he was not so quick to assume anything.

I mumbled I was fine, but he grabbed my hand to feel my pulse. It was still racing from the fright the Ranger gave me. I sighed and slowly leaned my head on Nawat's shoulder, hiding my face under my hair from the silver gaze of the man. I was just so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open. Nawat placed his free hand on my back, gently rubbing soothing circles that only made me drowsier. I shivered while my stomach complained loudly again.

"Everything points out it's the smoke," were the words of the second-in-command, who spoke to Nawat's right, "such a collapse is not unusual when a lot of it has been inhaled, although it happens sooner after being exposed. How long were you caught in it?"

"We were always at the edge – maybe for half an hour in the centre," was Nawat's reply. "I am not affected and we walked the same path together." He turned to me, "_Megan, how are you_? _Do you feel sick?"_

"_Tired…hungry_," I mumbled, but only Nawat understood me.

"The boy's colour really frightens me," said Valandur as a warm cup of herbal tea was brought to him. "Let's see if he gets better after drinking this," he said as a wonderful smell teased my nostrils. It reminded me of the teas I drank when ill at home – or one of those mixtures Achâk protected like a jealous dragon.

"He should get fine after a bit of rest," Nawat told him as he accepted the cup, taking a deep breath of the aroma. He nodded at the choice and nudged me to take it. "He's just exhausted – he kept watch through the night and was ill a week ago, so he's not at his best right now," concluded Nawat and the men had to believe his diagnosis – he knew me better after all.

With jittery hands I managed to get everything down and then lean on him again. It felt so good to feel the warmth spread from my stomach! Before I could turn my eyes back at the Ranger, a warm cloak was suddenly placed around me by his hands. "_Thank you,"_ I managed to say to him, Nawat translating my words. I could see now that he did not suspect anything. That made me calmer towards him thus lessening the possibility of betraying anything with my emotions. The Druedain did say I wore my heart on my sleeve.

When he had moved back to his seating place his eyes rested on us with curiosity– one could almost see how new questions formed in his sharp mind.

"You are very close, are you not?" he asked. This was apparent to everyone by now. They could see how protective we were of one another, how in tune with each other.

"We are," smiled Nawat, pleased with the observation. "He was accepted into my clan by my father, Ghân, but it was me who became his mentor instead of him as custom dictates." He squeezed my shoulder as I listened to his warm voice, lying with my head on his thigh. "So, you could say we are closer than blood siblings now," he smiled. He knew the man was fooled by the paint (for now), so he decided to behave as the unconventional alliance dictated.

The ranger was intrigued, "Does that happen often?"

Nawat shook his head, "No, it is very rare, but Megan is full of surprises. He has a strong heart – a true fighter, that one," he said, "There's little he can't do when he sets his mind on it. He'll make all of us very proud one day."

"Is that so?" smiled the second-in-command. I guess he could not see what was so special in a boy. He did judge me to be fifteen at most, so he thought the words were a bit rash. How could he know there was a twenty-one year old woman hiding behind that paint?

"You should have seen how he faced the wolves," said Nawat as he accepted a cup of tea when several cups were brought to the commanders. "You probably were in a clearing near the cliffs when you fought the pack, if I am not mistaken…" he began, satisfied that they took the bait. "We were there yesterday at noon when we were ambushed…"

With these words he told them of our encounter with the wolves - with few creative modifications, of course. Mostly on the reason why we were there and some details they needed not know, but despite of that he was truthful. It was a cunning move, executed with the skill of a master negotiator. I do believe he had to acquire it when he played one prank too many on some unsuspecting elder or warrior as a child or teenager and had to find a way to avoid punishment. Now it served to gain the trust of the leader. But Nawat undoubtedly knew that this was just the beginning, the very foundation of a possible truce between nations. As Confucius said; _'it does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.'_ And he planned to move forward step by step – rushing would only botch things up.

I was oblivious to the inner-workings of his mind and the plots being put in place then. I just let his calm and warm voice wash over me and rested while we waited for the meal to be ready. Some no doubt questioned the tale he spun, but kept that to themselves, knowing very well that the group left behind would thoroughly inspect that area – burnt carcasses would confirm the story…or not. It paid off to be patient and both nations had patience to last for decades. It was a hard-won trait after all.

It was curious though how many times laughter rang out as I dozed lightly. I just blinked with surprise then closed my eyes gain. Fuzzy thoughts spiralling through my mind recalled one of the days spent with my friend April and her cousins. Back then I was dozing on the couch after a long day and they were laughing at some lame movie they've put in just for that purpose. Now the situation felt almost the same, bringing back homesickness in a sharp jolt. I sighed and tried harder to forget everything. It was no use to remember if it would only make me feel down.

"I see now that there is fire and courage in your people and in him," said the second-in-command with a smile. The Ranger chuckled at that – they both found the entire episode of a sulky teenager on a tree hilarious. Nawat laughed with them at that recollection, sharing some of the complaints I had muttered. But they all admitted that it took a lot of guts to face death and declare that the timing of the attack really sucked. One had to wonder how Nawat managed to translate everything so well, though. It was good then I did not know what he had told them – I would never be able to look the Ranger in the eyes otherwise.

"I do wonder how you manage to wake him up in the morning," laughed Valandur, "he strikes me to be the kind that would sooner chew you out than move from his covers before the sun is up."

Nawat raised an eyebrow, "Now that is an apt description – of Achâk, our healer, I'm afraid," he told them, "This young boy, however, just turns his back at you."

Laughter rang out again, cutting through my doze effectively. At a nudge from Nawat, I sat up and blinked a few times to fight away the haze of sleep-deprivation with a groan of the dissatisfied. It would have been nice to give me five more minutes… Nawat just patted my back good-naturedly as I yawned.

Food was being divided among the men right then, so it was good I was awake. Bowls filled with meat and other things the men could scrape together for a meal were finally brought over. It smelled absolutely divine!

"So, feeling better?" asked Nawat.

"Much, thank you," I told him. Then I turned to Valandur – his cloak was still wrapped around my shoulders, engulfing me in the scents clinging to it. Horses, smoke and the distinctive male smell I've been surrounded with for the past months. Now that I saw him interact with his people and Nawat, I realised he was not as scary as I've always pictured him in my mind. He was still intimidating, that is sure, but I caught a glimpse of a kinder man. He was not the ruthless warrior who had captured me.

At a nod from the leaders we tucked in, sharing everything equally among everyone. I took time to taste everything there was to offer. A bite of this and a bite of that… I took pleasure in familiar spices the Druedain could not get hold of this far from their home. After a few months I was famished for it. Cheese, bread, some dried apples… It felt almost like home. I did not even know how much I missed these things when I did not have a chance to get a taste of them.

"I can see the boy enjoys our simple fare," said Valandur after a few minutes.

"It is very good," complimented Nawat as he slowly savoured a slice of meat and cheese on a small piece of bread. "It is very kind of you to share your meal – we would have gone hungry for quite some time before we returned back to our camp."

The man weaved off the thanks like it was quite natural to share a meal with his former 'enemy'. "It is no trouble," he said and his grey eyes betrayed he truly meant it. "But I am curious… how come there are more of your tribe in the mountains?"

"We came for the numerous healing plants and to find the places of our ancestors. You may not know, but our tribe used to live along the entire mountain range long ago. If orcs start to move here and your people continue to threaten the forest, we will be forced to move to a new area further away." With a sad shake of his head, he sighed, "But if that pack is a sign of things to come, perhaps we have not found a safe place to go after all…"

The men had nothing to say to that – they were a part of the troubles plaguing the Druedain. Perhaps they hadn't known how hard life was for other smaller groups - nobody minded other people's troubles. That was how things were in Middle Earth in the last decades. And that was their bane, their curse. They did not trust each other anymore – Gondor and Rohan were falling apart and more and more of the Dark Lord's spies and servants could slip through them undetected. Gandalf saw that and tried to rectify the situation, sending more and more of the rangers to the southern kingdoms. But it seemed it was too late to mend burnt bridges – when blood was shed on both sides, it was almost impossible to find common ground.

I could see from their faces that they started to talk about a serious matter, so I averted my eyes. There were things the Druedain did not discuss with me about and I respected that – if Nawat had something to settle between the groups, he was welcome to it, I had no desire to know everything. I slowly chewed whilst trying not to listen even if I could understand but a few words. The tone of Nawat's voice betrayed enough of his feelings on the matter.

My eyes turned away from them and landed on the trees. The sun was gaining strength even through the distant haze of smoke. However, the chill in the ground would remain for a few weeks more. I felt it good enough even through the blanket I sat upon. When my eyes moved along the same line again I saw something that made me startle – and startle hard. There was an old man, in brown cloak holding a wooden staff in his hand, and he was looking directly at me!

"By Eru, Radagast! You have startled us all!" cried Valandur when he recognized the man. He let out a big sigh of relief and put away the dagger he had grabbed when I jumped in my seat. "Don't worry, I know the man," he told Nawat as men exclaimed at the unexpected arrival. .

"Where is the rest of your company?" asked Valandur the man as he stood up. The men were excited – was the rest of their companions nearby?

I looked at Nawat with big eyes. I was totally floored – how come no one of the guards actually saw his approach?! Who was he? My honest deduction was that he could not be an ordinary old man – they would not have taken him to fight the wolves if he was…. The only explanation left was that he was something more, something I had feared meeting all along. He was a wizard. No other explanation would do – there was something alien beneath that façade. I could feel it – it was like an animal instinct. You knew when a stronger predator faced you. The thought sent chills through my veins.

"They are just a few minutes behind me," replied the wizard. His eyes slid back to me like he could hardly keep them away. There was something in his gaze that unsettled me, but I could not explain what exactly it was. Did I imagine there was something because I knew he was a true wizard, or was it the unusual intensity with which he looked at me? I did not know and I did not wish to find out. I just wanted this day to be over – I had enough. No more…

"I see you have company – are this the two my birds told me about?" he said in his deep voice.

"The very ones," replied Valandur with a smile as we all stood up.

"I should tell them they are very lucky," he said as he slowly moved towards us. "The wolves would have gotten on that tree one way or another. Good archery skills, though. They've got several of the beasts – we found the carcasses by an old oak," he said in a deep voice, confirming our story. He turned to Nawat as he arrived, "I presume that's the tree you've spent the night on," he said.

"Yes, I believe that is the oak. Has it survived the fire?" asked Nawat.

"It escaped but barely – you would have certainly died in the smoke have you stayed there," was the wizard truthful. "I'm truly sorry about that – it was never our intention to harm you. You did, after all, help us locate the beasts and kept them there long enough for us to arrive."

Nawat had nothing to say to that.

Valandur turned to us for introductions. "These are Nawat Fiery fox, and Megan White Wolf of the Oak clan," he told the wizard. "Nawat, Megan, this is Radagast the Brown – a wizard and an ally in the fight against wolves."

"The Druedain have not seen a wizard for many decades," was the cryptic reply of Nawat once he translated for me. He did not seem excited about the meeting at all, yet he managed to mask that dislike very well. Still, I detected the wizard was aware of that when he turned to look at me.

"True – we do not travel this way often," said Radagast as the men sat down again. "Megan, Megan White Wolf… Interesting name…" he murmured.

"The boy himself is even more interesting," replied Valandur with a chuckle that many men echoed.

"Ah, indeed…" replied the wizard in a peculiar tone and looked me in the eyes.

I could swear he saw right through me in that moment. There was something lurking in his eyes – a power I've never encountered before. I could feel something shift inside me under his gaze and I was totally run over with the sensation; neither knowing what it meant nor how to control or stop it. One thing was certain though; he saw more than just my eyes – it was like he could take a certain measure of my very soul in one long look.

A thought ran through my mind – _in time he could find everything there is to be found…every memory, every simple thought…_

I jerked my eyes away as if burned. The wizard seemed to realise he spooked me because he turned to Valandur, talking with him and other men like nothing happened. In just a moment I was left with a wildly beating heart and a feeling of dread making my hairs stand on end.

I could not take it anymore. I murmured to Nawat to excuse me and fled with a barely moderate pace towards the stream. I had to get away from the scrutiny, from the men that looked at me with suspicion and hate. I could not stand it.

I felt like a total nutcase for jumping at everything, at every strange look. Middle Earth changed me in ways I did not like. It was like I had been transported back in time to the first week I've spent in the woods. This was not me; this was not who I was before landing here. I did not wish to believe that someone could see right into me and find my entire life on a silver platter. I wanted to go home – to get away from this wild world.

I ran the last few steps towards the rushing stream, but I could not bring myself to leave Nawat. I knew I could probably make it to our camp and escape them, but to leave the only person who really understood me behind was not something I was prepared to do.

I swallowed hard. Tears were gathering in my eyes and a cold feeling squeezed my heart.

_What will happen now_, I wondered. _What should I do?_ The wizard was dangerous and I knew he already found out something about me. Could I really risk him finding out more? I knew nothing about him. That scared me more than knowing he were a serial killer would. He was a wild card in my knowledge of the LOTR. What if he told Saruman about me – about some strange person? What would happen then? Would I be in danger? Would everyone be in danger?

I did not know and that scared me. Living with the Druedain was peaceful and rewarding and I almost forgot about the dangers here. This world was a dark place. I've experienced that myself and I knew that what was to come would be even darker, scarier.

"Megan?"

I started and turned around. Nawat was standing on the top of the small incline, looking at me with concern. He did not need to say a word. His presence felt like a ray of light in the abyss. He was my strength, my comfort. I knew he understood and did not judge. He came for me. He cared. He was the brother I never had.

With eyes brimming with unshed tears I smiled. I knew now what I had to do.

I would put my fears away and pull this off – for Nawat. He saved me so many times. Now I had to be brave and fool the wizard to get us away. To protect him I had to hide my dangerous knowledge of the future and pretend to be a Druedain boy. Or, in the case of the wizard, a Druedain woman. I had to.


	20. The Wizard Radagast

A/N: Sorry for the long delay; the studies are killing me! RL obligations put a dent in my plans, but here's the new chapter. If everything goes to plan the next one should follow in a month. Yeah, I know - a month is a long time. But then comes summer when I may finally pick up my usual pace of one chapter every two weeks or (gasp) even a chapter a week! I certainly hope for the latter - I'd like to move the story forward to the really interesting part. ;)

To **TheAmazingSmartyPants**: I'm really sorry I couldn't publish this chapter on your 21st birthday. :( Let this one be a belated gift for you; I think you'll enjoy it and hopefully find my potrayal of the very mysterious Brown wizard to your satisfaction. :D

**iheartanime07** - thank's for the praise. :D I am very happy you enjoy my story so far. You've also given me some food for thought; perhaps the first chapters trully are in need of some serious editing. But I'd rather update the story than rewrite the beginning. Lazy, I know...

**Edited: 3.11.2010**

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Chapter Eighteen: The Wizard Radagast**

**Or: How things don't go according to plans**

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With a shaky sigh I joined Nawat on the hill. I just knew I've done the most _stupid_ thing in front of the wizard – now he would surely know something's up. How would I be able to help Nawat now? _Stupid, stupid, stupid! God, woman – get a grip and use your brain! No fear, remember?_

When I reached him he looked almost as troubled as when we faced the wolves, if not more. I had no idea what we could do now. I messed up things very well. The Ranger would surely start suspecting something too – he did not strike me as a stupid man - he sure knew there was something fishy about both of us…

Nawat turned away from the camp and worriedly whispered in my ear. "What has happened with the wizard, Meg?" he asked. His grip on my shoulder was painfully hard as he almost loomed above my fatigued figure. He was really troubled. It frightened me.

"I…hhe… He knows I'm… different," I managed to say. I could feel my skin crawl in horror at that admission. It scared the crap out of Nawat too. My plan to pretend to be Druedain was a very difficult thing to pull off; and we both knew the odds were not in our favour, if we were found out.

"Different how? Did he realise you're a woman… or did he…find out more?" he asked with tension in his voice. I did not know what to say and only helplessly opened my mouth a couple of times. "Tell me!" he suddenly exploded. "If he will betray you, we should go _now_. Megan – what happened back there?" His eyes pleaded with me to tell him some good news – anything he could use to keep us safe.

"I don't know!" I sharply whispered, scared someone would hear. "_This_ is not exactly something I'm used to! It should not be possible!"

"What should not be possible?" he insisted, his grip turning bruising. Only his admirable self-restraint kept him from shaking me to get the answers out of my mouth faster.

My mouth opened and spewed forth my horror, "Nobody can see into a person's soul! It's not possible! It is not… possible…" With each word my conviction about the truth of the statement lost some of its strength. I have felt the wizard's power over me – it was real. As real as orcs and evil wolves… things that should be impossible…

I've thought I've accepted the highly strange fact that I was stranded in Middle Earth, and thought I was ready for everything it would throw in my path, but now I realised that I had no idea what Arda could come up with. The entire situation suddenly seemed to be too much for me – in the end I could accept only so many abnormalities and the last few days were eye-opening. Maybe too much. If there was a silver-lining to be found, maybe it was this: at least I knew now that true magic scared the shit out of me. I wouldn't be able to watch April's shows anymore – that was hundred percent sure.

Faced with the evidence that nightmares I wasn't even aware of could come alive here, I had to wonder - _What if the tales of the Druedain are true too? Spirit walks, demons and ghosts? Was all of that possible?_

That rocked me to the core. One could say the foundations of my beliefs appeared to be erased, turned null and void, and that with one penetrating look of a wizard. If what I knew of the world was useless, did that apply to me other knowledge too? Could I not trust my own judgement anymore?

Nawat whispered a prayer to the heavens and I gathered myself together. Cold rage filled my heart when I imagined myself left at their mercy – I'd never give up! Middle Earth would _not_ break me. If I had to fight for my passage home, I would do it. Gladly. Right now I was a representative of my world and I had to live up to the expectations! We may not have orcs but we are no weaklings!

Hands shook me out of my thoughts. Sharp dark brown eyes commanded me to pay attention. "Megan! Will you listen to me?" Nawat hissed and for a moment I thought he would slap me across my face when I did not answer immediatelly. "Do as I say and we should be fine. Do you understand?" he asked with a tone that told me to better pay attention or else.

I nodded and somehow managed to memorize his instructions. He was good enough to keep them very simple and straightforward. But I feared it was too late for that - a cold feeling settled deep in my heart again when I thought of the wizard. My mind tried to guess what awaited us at the camp – I had a feeling the wizard would confront me sooner or later.

**OoOoO Druedain OoOoO**

We reached the camp in a minute, the men not paying much attention to us, which was a comforting fact. I let my eyes only flitter across their faces and skipped their leader and the wizard. It seemed my secret was safe – 'for now' my mind added. I would try my courage on them later, I promised myself. At least nobody was asking pointed questions then.

Nawat instructed me to sit down and take my medicine pack, just as he had told me he would. He turned to the leader, explaining my flight. He stated I was feeling sick and had therefore removed myself from the camp like some 'Druedain protocol' demanded. Basically, he just made it up, but it was believable enough, so it didn't ring any bells.

Gently, he draped the Ranger's cloak around me again and asked for tea to settle my stomach. He played his role of a worried teacher well. I tried to tell him with my eyes to tone it down since an upset stomach did not warrant so much attention, but he just smiled at my looks, prompting a few chuckles from the men when I grumbled back. Scared or not – I was not a baby. Only then did I realise I've just done what he had set out to do with his actions. I've just confirmed my 'boy' persona to the men. _It figures... _I thought, barely managing not to roll my eyes at his underhanded tactics.

"Take the packs we need for a basic healing salve," he told me with a smirk that was just a bland version of his usual spunk, and named the herbs I pulled out.

Our hands needed the salve, but the men were in an even greater need of my strong recipe – scratches were not burns or open wounds after all. Therefore Valandur graciously accepted our offer of a batch. He observed our actions with curiosity and a bit of hidden weariness as we discussed the herbs and the quantity needed in a foreign language, but did not speak up. His eyes rarely left me for long though. I wondered if he thought my face expressive enough that he'd be able to catch any underhanded attempt to harm his men. I truly did not wish to think he'd figured me out so easily.

Nawat placed a water-skin by my side and fetched a large bowl while I started with the preparation. I kept my mind firmly on the instructions for the salve. No amount of curious men and long stares could shake my resolve now. I especially did _not_ look at the wizard. I had enough trouble trying not to show discomfort when Valandur moved closer as I took over the majority of the preparation and not Nawat like most expected.

"The boy will prepare it?" he asked.

"He is being instructed by our best healer – Achâk, who is gathering herbs here," replied Nawat with his usual carefree voice (how he managed that remains a mystery). "Megan knows his own herbs the best, so he'll select them. But I'll be doing most of the work – he needs to gather his strength for our way back."

"Of course," Valandur agreed together with the wizard. Unfortunately, busy with the first step, Nawat and I missed the silent communication passing between them.

Thus I got to show my healer's skills for the first time. The many eyes did not make me less nervous than when it was Achâk's stern gaze that observed my every move. But this paste was not hard to make once you knew the correct proportions for each herb, and had enough patience to prevent clumps from forming. To know which of the ingredients is fresher and therefore needed in lesser quantity was the trick. Math skills and a sense for measurement were a blessing here. Nawat took over the rest of the work – crushing the herbs and pouring hot water into the bowl, stirring until the mixture resembled a very thick paste.

The Ranger was the first one to inspect it.

"Good," he said after he tasted it. "You have herbs of a high quality; the salve would be good even if you had used less, but… the boy has a rather generous hand with them." The last remark was delivered with a small smile. He passed the bowl to the wizard who dipped a finger in and spread it over a finger to judge the consistency. The bowl returned back to Nawat. The wizard's eyes turned to me again, making me avert my gaze.

"Does Megan have an explanation for the potency?" asked Valandur, observing my face with great attention, still sitting close to me. I started feeling something was not right, but chalked it up to my fear of being discovered. I dared not make a scene again by presuming too much.

Nawat told him what I had told Achâk; that the first salve applied should be strong to shorten the healing period. Even though they've been using it for millennia with no problems, I hated to use a weak version of any healing mixture they prepared. Fear of resistant germs was ingrained in me ever since a cousin of my mother got infected with antibiotic resistant bacteria at a hospital after an operation.

I held out my hands for Nawat to put on a small glob of it, spread it evenly and let it slowly dry in the air. I focused solely on the task while listening to the tone of their voices. The language barrier really annoyed me – I felt completely useless when I did not understand a word of it.

"We will give you some of the food here to take with you," Valandur told him. "I'm sure it will come in handy."

"You are very generous," answered Nawat. What he did not know was that they wished to get him away from me and this was one of their plans. They hoped to busy him with preparations and, fortunately for them, he walked straight into the trap despite the misgivings he had. He grabbed our dirty boxes used for food storage and turned to me.

Valandur stopped him before he could bid me to go with him to the stream again. "Give that to the men – they'll be doing wash up too," he told him, nodding to one soldier in particular.

Nawat did so, leaving me alone but for a few moments. The wizard's eyes followed him until he was turned away and no one seemed to be paying attention to our circle. He began to talk to Valandur in that same melodious tongue I've heard before – Sindarin.

"So, have you finally formed your opinion about our guest here?" the wizard asked. "You've been staring at the poor creature like it is a new breed of a horse," he drawled with an eyebrow raised.

"You are very perceptive, Radagast," he chuckled, looking down at me for a moment. "Yes, I finally unravelled this small mystery," he said, then lowered his voice perceptively. "The _boy_ here is not a boy at all, but a _girl_." His eyes glimmered with victory at the wizard, "Is that what you tried to point out before with your riddles?"

"What riddles, my friend?" smiled innocently the wizard. "I only mentioned some facts about their way of life."

The Ranger chuckled, "I know your sort too well, Radagast. But I am grateful you've helped me put my suspicions to rest. The 'boy' rubbed me the wrong way from the start."

"It's the eyes," murmured the wizard under his breath.

"What?"

"You know better now," replied the wizard as if nothing happened, "The Wild men of Druadan forest always treated their woman-folk like their equals."

The Ranger huffed, "You could have told me on the way here, you know." He truly had no idea of this fact – the Druedain men and women hunted together often in spring and summer, but the gentler sex was disguised as young boys as often as possible. Especially along he borders or where a meeting with other people was possible. It helped to protect the women and also kept the enemies in the dark about the actual number of warriors the tribe had.

"But honestly," he asked the wizard, "how much of what he told us can we trust?"

The wizard sobered, looking quickly at Nawat who was returning, bringing the bowl with the salve with him. "He was pretty truthful, all things considered, I believe. He would not dare to lie to your face."

"And you are quite sure about this how?"

"I have a feeling it is so," stated Radagast, taking a sip of his previously abandoned drink.

"Ah, you have a feeling. Why does that not comfort me at all?" replied the Ranger with a huff. The wizard only twinkled with his eyes.

"Should we let him know?" asked Valandur.

"No, let him have his peace – he's protecting her," he shook his head. It definitely explained Nawat's behaviour towards me very well and it was something the men could relate to. They wouldn't wish to let a potential enemy know they had a female relative with them. So they kept quiet on the issue, but the wizard's curiosity was not quenched.

Nawat sat down beside me, looking over my hands. He applied some more of the salve even though I knew there was enough of it coating the cuts.

"I noticed Megan has a very unique quiver," Valandur said suddenly and pointed to the long tube of leather that held my arrows. It was leaning against Nawat's pack, so it stood out. It was a curious mixture of my art knowledge and Druedain tradition. No wonder it had caught his eye.

"Has he received it as a gift?" he asked and turned his eyes to me.

"No, this is his own work," replied Nawat. He always admired my patience when working on something and the care I took to smoothly join two cultures into a harmonic unit. They usually did not use colours that much on their gear, preferring natural hues that blended well with surroundings - more colour was used in decorations of homes, storage baskets and bowls, jewellery. I could not resist, so there were colours used on my gear. Perhaps that was not a good idea in this case. No wonder Valandur was suspicious of me – why would a boy have such a quiver?

Valandur seemed slightly impressed – I guess he did not expect me to be the one who fashioned it. He took his time to look at it in detail once Nawat handed it to him with my permission. His gaze slid over the stamped animals and the lines I had thinly filled with colour – dark red, black and ochre. I had divided the surface into many sections – the ones with animals were broader, separated from the next with a couple of narrower lines filled with geometric patterns. There were only stags and hinds depicted, but each had a different pose. Stamping the design had been very time-consuming since I only had very few bronze tools available, but the result was very beautiful in its simple way.

"It is truly remarkable," he murmured as he let his fingers gently slide over the indicated fur. The oils Chogân prepared for use on wood and leather had made it possible to preserve even the tiniest detail and make it even more resistant to weather. I was quite proud of the finished product. "It is rare for such a young person to achieve this kind of craftsmanship," he said, looking at me in a new light.

I just nicked with my head in thanks once Nawat translated his praise then busied myself with packing the remaining herbs away. Nawat too, slowly but surely prepared himself for departure. The men brought back our boxes and Nawat was busy packing some of the left-over food in it.

It was me who had the honour to put the salve into a small jar – it was finicky work I did not care much about. It left me under the eyes of the wizard, while Nawat could move about. He noticed this, so he sent me off with our water-skins to the stream as soon as possible. I was glad to get away once more, but dreaded something would happen once I was not under Nawat's protection. Valandur and wizard had something up their sleeve, I could just feel it.

So I steeled myself for anything as I walked to the now familiar site at the stream. Nobody was there when I arrived, even though I've met a soldier who was returning to camp along the way there. I carefully knelt down on the small pebbles and pushed the first water-skin under the cold water. It was then that I heard a noise to my left. As I shifted my face to it, the wizard was already there. I tensed under his gaze, but fortunately did not jump in surprise. He slowly approached me, but to my immense relief he sat down at a large boulder a few steps away and leaned on his staff.

He had only one reason to be there – he wanted to find answers, there was no other explanation possible. Not with the way he was observing my every move. He did have a calm air about him, but that did not comfort me much. His reason for approaching me was not relevant at all. His attention was the last thing I wanted; especially when I had so much to hide. But instead of speaking or demanding answers, he just sat there, observing me with infinite patience. I could feel the tiny hairs on my neck stand up with rising tension in the air. But this time I managed to remain calm and focus on my task.

"I know you're a woman," he suddenly stated in perfect Druedain language.

My heart stopped for a moment before resuming its fast pace. I swear I thought I'd get a heart attack one of those days. But I was not so easily coved now – I clenched my teeth and ignored him. So what if he knew that? Everyone could find out. Therefore, my gaze was stubbornly focused on the submerged water-skin. I held it under the surface even after it filled with water. My mind was busy with scenarios of escape. Silence was a shield around me; he could not do anything as long as I remained silent.

"Valandur knows you're a woman too," he continued in that annoyingly neutral tone.

I was sure it was his way of getting under my skin. My eyes flashed with anger at that and I pulled out the water-skin, my hands tingling from the cold. With no reply to that I grabbed the other one and dunked it under the water. _Where is he going with this questioning?_

"You know him from the Druadan Forest, don't you, Megan?" he stated rather than asked. "He doesn't remember yet, but his instincts tell him there is something about you he should know… You are the woman from the canyon he's been searching for the last months," he stated to my immense horror.

I gulped, having all my fears confirmed. The question was: would he betray me? However, my biggest fear was that he would put things together and discover my true origins – he knew how I've met the Ranger, my strange behaviour back then, and he had the benefit of having seen into me. What was I supposed to do?

Radagast the Brown leaned forward on his staff, his expression turning a shade gentler. Yet that did not comfort me – I shrunk into myself, the grip on the water-skin turning bruising. What he would want now, I wondered.

"Ah, I frightened you," he said with a tone of regret. "I will keep your secrets Megan, but you will have to explain some things to me."

That did not sound encouraging.

He leaned back a little, studying me with his wise eyes, "I know you are no spy – Valandur himself doubted that from the very beginning. But there is something different about you… no doubt about that," he said. "You are not one of the Druedain and you are not one of the people in the East – in fact, I have no idea which people you belong to." He looked away, but continued in a sad murmur. "You are terrified of the Darkness in the East and the people of the West… Something tells me you are completely alone here, aren't you?" he asked softly, but did not wait for a reply. I could not give it even if I had tried to. I had a lump wedged in my throat.

"You do not trust the Druedain. You trust no one, not even yourself…" with these words his tone changed, but I could not put a finger on what it meant exactly – it was not pity, but what was it?.

I lowered my gaze. His words managed to find the right strings in my heart and tug on them. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say to point out my loneliness, my alienation from everyone? It was something even I had not truly understood before, but he could see it so clearly. And I had tried so hard to keep it away, pretend everything was OK. But I missed home, more so when my life was in danger – the last few days had not been exactly gentle with me.

"What happened to you, child? What darkness lies behind those shadowed eyes?" he asked. "You have a thousand masks to hide from the world," he continued his observations. Then he fell silent and cocked his head to the side as if trying to figure something out. Perhaps he saw my distress for he asked: "What are you protecting, Megan? What is it? What do you hold tight to your heart, hiding it away from the world?" His tone reminded me of my grandfather, who could always get me out of my shell. "You have to let it out, prevent this hurt from festering inside you..."

Even if he meant well, I could not speak of things I knew and feared. He would not believe me a word anyway. But I had to give it to him – he was one observing bastard alright. The burden of the knowledge weighed on me. I could save or doom Middle Earth. If I assumed the passage to my world was open to other beings too, it was up to me to protect _both_ Worlds.

I had agonized over this many times in the long nights before I managed to push it away with no firm plan in mind. Come morning, Nawat or other men kept me busy with chores until the matter slipped from my mind again. Learning to live in a moment and enjoying it to the fullest was the greatest lesson they gave me. The distraction of learning a new language, customs and skills was enough to bring even a sliver of true happiness to me. I felt almost at home in the still forest nowadays. But the wizard was tearing this illusion apart, removing the mask of normalcy I donned every day. He saw the deep chasm of fear eating me up alive...fear of never returning back home, of being abandoned, of never finding my purpose in life.

He put those heavy issues back into the centre.

_Bastard._

I felt like running away, crying... and then anger, deep burning anger at the way he just turned my life upside down. Alas, I could not run away this time nor scream at him what I thought of his tactics and his dangerous world. I could feel it deep in my bones - the time to decide whether to reveal my knowledge or not has arrived; sooner than I had expected - too soon, perhaps.

"You are a good person, Megan – I can feel that despite your deception. Whatever burden you bear in silence will destroy you, even if you do it to protect others," he told me, almost pleading for me to say something, to react. "You know you will find no happiness living alone in Anórien – and that is exactly what you are doing. It can't go on forever."

He could speak! He had absolutely no idea what I held in my hands, what scared me out of my mind. There was the knowledge of the future of this world, and then the knowledge of my world and its dangers. I could doom either one. What would happen to Earth should some of those dangerous forces in Middle Earth gain knowledge of it? Who knew what horror Sauron was capable of inflicting on my world with all the advanced weaponry we built? Or even use it to dominate Middle Earth… Hell, both worlds! No, I had to remain secluded here, to protect everyone as best as I could. I would return back home as soon as the passage would be safe once again. That was the right decision, wasn't it?

"I can let you leave with Nawat," he said to my surprise. "However, I must know at least something about the reasons you hide – you understand that, don't you?" he persisted. "What brought you here?"

What good would it do to tell him that? To reveal the existence of another world? I had had nightmares about Orcs gaining passage to Canada through the old site. Even the Druedain were not completely sure something had not slipped past once before – that relief of an orc-like being was a sharp warning, I believe. Orcs were not mindless beasts; they would be able to grasp the concept of a gun and use it in new devious ways. To imagine such evil creatures let loose with guns on the unsuspecting people of Middle Earth– horrible! My conscience would not let me close an eye at night were that to happen.

As Radagast had pointed out I dreaded the knowledge I had inside me. I had not dared confide about such things to Ghân either. The risk that they would sooner kill me than leave something of this magnitude to doom them all was too big. Even if he firmly believed in the idea that I was sent here for a reason and that I had a duty to perform, he would kill me. What was one life compared to thousands?

I prayed to god the wizard would never find a way to extract this knowledge from me. But even this was shadowed by the realisation that there was a likely possibility he already had a way to open up my mind. How to keep him off my back?

"Megan, is there something you _can_ tell me? _Anything_?" he asked as I pulled out the second water-skin. I had to get away fast or I would let something slip any time now – he knew just the right things to say to wake doubts in my mind.

I shouldered both water-skins and stood up.

Radagast copied my movement, but did not step closer. "So you are determined to keep your secrets," he said with a mixture of resignation and disappointment. I had a feeling he had not given up, not really. There was no defeat in him – he was a wizard after all and I just a girl. Things could get ugly in a second, I thought. He would get answers out of me one way or the other. But what was I to do? There were only two options left now – keep silent, or tell him something that would get him off his high horse. I was pissed at the way all my interactions with men here seemed to end in the same way – with threats or angry looks. Therefore I turned to him for the first time, my face dead serious.

_Fine – you will ge__t something, but you won't like it._ _You__will__understand the gravity of the situation once I'm finished with you. People's lives are in danger._

"If you know what is best for Arda, you keep any knowledge of me secret," I told him in a no-nonsense voice. My voice wobbled a bit, but I pushed on. "I _died_ in that canyon – do you understand? Valandur should forget he ever saw me. Keep him away."

He knew at once that I meant every word. I had misgivings about saying more, but I had to finish what I've begun. I could not stop now, but I could also not give away too much – that would be a mistake.

"By right I should not be speaking with you," I told him. "But now that I am, you should respect my wishes and do as I say. Valandur must _not_ pursue this any longer – keep him away or he'll get hurt. I will not be responsible for anyone's safety."

Radagast seemed perplexed and not a little alarmed at the tone of my warning. It did sound as if I had issued a threat. But that did not make much sense to him. He was the one with power, so a threat was meaningless. "I can't just let you go, Megan. What is it that you know?" he demanded, stepping closer. He could not even let me finish my speech.

"Don't ask and don't mention meeting me to anyone," I told him with bared teeth. I had enough. Wizards and their need to meddle! "Leave me alone and return to Isengard – dig there if you want answers!"

At the mention of his superior's base he straightened, an angry spark appearing in his eyes at the hostile tone of my words. But I had thought for a long time that someone should be investigating Isengard. Saruman was dangerous and nobody ever suspected him of wrongdoings until it was too late. And that was the reason he could inflict so much suffering in Rohan. The monstrous Uruk-hai (a cross-breed between Orcs and Men – I shuddered imagining how _that_ came about) were a longstanding project of his. Even if it was decades before the war, some of them had to be hidden somewhere. His change from a wizard on the side of the Elves and Men to the one who struck an alliance with Sauron was gradual. April told me so and I remembered asking why nobody saw it. It was because no one looked closer. But how to make my allegations convincing enough? I had a vague idea… and I had to pull this off to save my skin too.

"Saruman is not what he _pretends_ to be. He is not what he _should_ be," I told him. "His thirst for power grows and it won't be long before his allegiance will change." Even if I did not know it, I was the first person to point out there was something wrong, something foul in the mightiest wizard in Middle Earth.

Radagast did not believe me. He could not and his anger at my words only strengthened. But I looked him in the eyes and he could see my conviction on that statement; my fear and despair. I mourned the hundreds that would die under that wizard's hand before it even happened.

"What is this?" he asked. My mind opened to him in that moment and he could see flashes of the Uruk-hai as I remembered them from the movies. "How can it be true? You lie!" he exclaimed, but deep down he knew. He had heard of such creatures not long ago from the animals. The first seed of doubt was planted.

I was quick to reply: "I do not lie! Look closer at his actions, his words! Observe! But know that what I tell you is true. Saruman will turn against your Order. Isengard will fall!"

Radagast still did not fully believe me, "So you are a seer to know his actions in the future?" he asked, stepping closer. "How do you know these things?"

"No. I am not a seer," I answered quickly, frightened of his gaze. I was on thin ice now. "But I know what a seer told a long time ago to _my_ people," I told him in a hushed tone. That threw him for a loop. But I knew Tolkien was right up to now, so I had to ask for a date before he could start yelling at me again: "What year is it in your land?"

"It is 3016 of the Third Age," he answered automatically before he could curb the instinct.

I felt faint. "Jesus!" escaped my lips before I leaned on a nearby tree. "Three years! Just three years!" I remembered the date of the War of the Ring exactly because it was 30_19_ - the number of years I had when the last movie came to the cinema. Now it only made me physically sick. I somehow curbed the instinct to heave and swallowed the bile down. Now was not the moment for weaknesses! I had to solve this – find a way to get the relevant knowledge out, but in a safe way. Radagast was out as a messenger of the truth – he was unpredictable in my books. I needed the Grey Pilgrim.

"Megan?" asked the wizard cautiously.

"The time when the future of Middle Earth will be decided draws near," I told him in a hushed tone. "Everything hangs in a precarious balance - one wrong move and you are doomed. I know what will happen, Radagast. The Ring… the Ring has surfaced. Everyone is searching for Gollum."

He blanched at that, looking at me with fear. Now he seemed to comprehend the danger I posed. In the wrong hands… I truly could doom them all. I knew I've forfeited any means of staying on the sidelines with this. But somehow it felt right to do it even if I've made my life that more difficult. I prayed I've done the right thing though – I did not dare presume this knowledge was the reason I was sent here. April would be better suited in that case, but perhaps her 'fan-girl attitude' would have made her reckless. Meddling in the affairs of a foreign universe is not a matter done lightly. Without having all the facts you are liable to do more harm than good. _But __have I told him too much now?_

"By the Valar," he muttered. I have truly shocked him. Radagast had not done much during the war, I suddenly remembered. He was just a wizard more in tune with animals than people. It was Saruman and Gandalf that meddled in the politics of Men. He had no wish to do so and I dumped this on his shoulders. I felt a stab of guilt for doing this, but reminded myself he was centuries older than me, so he could very well handle it like I was forced to do. A messenger he would be.

With a weary sigh I commanded him, "Turn to Olorin. He will know what to do with my knowledge." _At least I hope so_ remained unsaid.

I hoped this would get my plans on track. I had to talk to Gandalf. And Radagast would have talked to his friend regardless of what I've said. Gandalf would sooner or later turn up in Anórien to take care of the danger I posed. I have resigned myself to this – it was inevitable with what I've just told him.

"How do you know that name?" he asked me, looking at me with some unreadable emotion in his eyes. His grip on the staff was suddenly unnaturally strong, turning his knuckles white, and I feared he would do something to me in his fear. Then it hit me what I've just blurted out unintentionally. I quite forgot that Olorin was Gandalf's name in the Undying lands when he was still a powerful spirit – a Maia. _Crap. What have you done now, girl?_

"Is that not the name of Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir?" I asked him with the best poker face I could come up with. Too bad poker's not my strong suit. I did not know Radagast's real name, but Olorin has stuck in my mind ever since April told me that was how Gandalf was first named. I liked the ring of it, but it seemed this name carried some baggage with it. I did not know there was something wrong before he asked for clarification in that slightly horrified tone.

"Where do you come from?" he demanded. His eyes pierced me, I swear. His gaze could have skewered me.

"That is none of your business, Radagast," I retorted in a hard tone, defending myself. "If Gandalf has any questions, he can always find me with the Druedain. They don't know anything of what I've just told you, so you leave them alone. Why do you think I fear Valandur so much – he's a smart man, he knows I'm different, that I hide something. He could take me to Saruman to get answers, for all I know."

"You have no idea just how different you are," he interrupted my speech in a disbelieving tone. "You're unlike anything I've come across. For the small moment I could gaze upon the spark of Illuvatar in you… I've rarely seen one as bright outside of the direct line of Numenor. And you are not their descendant, Megan."

I just gaped at him, not knowing whether that was good or bad news for me.

"As for Valandur - he seems to be drawn to your presence - he would protect you, if you gave him a chance," Radagast chastised. "I do believe we've met here by the Will of the Valar. You realize that if you know about the future…"

"I will have to do my best to help. Yes, I know," I agreed with a sigh. "However, I can't do this without a plan. Going with you right now would be stupid; I don't speak your language, I don't have my things with me and I'm not exactly what one would call inconspicuous. Should I pretend to be a prisoner or a mute in the villages? The men would not know what to think of me either, and I trust no one. I must remain a secret!"

"Yes, you are right," he soothed my agitation, "But these forests are not as safe as you think, either."

"No shit, Sherlock…" I muttered tiredly. This conversation just had no end in sight at all. I knew he wanted me to come with him right now but that was not possible. I would not go with _those_ men – they hated my guts. And I could hardly leave Ghân and Nawat in such an impulsive fashion and join a trek around Middle Earth. No, I would not.

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Your thoughts? Let me know and keep me inspired ;)**


	21. Panicking and Praying

**A/N:** I'm very sorry for the long delay in uploading. My muse was finicky and I've discarded enough material to upload two chapters before this chapter came together. I'm afraid of jinxing things again and saying when the next chapter will be up, but I hope an update a month is not too much to expect.

Thank you for your patience and my sincere apologies.

**(Edited 10.2.2012)**

I'm really sorry for the year-long delay in uploads. I've done some major rewriting of earlier chapters and this one as well, so I hope my writing skills will be up to the challenge of incorporating new ideas into the story. I thank everyone for your kind words of encouragement – especially . and KatieHebs. I love you guys! :D

**I'm working on a new chapter - promised!**

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**Chapter 19: Panicking and Praying**

**or: How to loose it with style**

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Radagast glowered at me, knowing my last statement was not exactly flattering for either of us. I swear it just slipped out of my mouth in exasperation. But why, oh why, did people believe they could order me around? Was my face so gullible or what?

"What would you have me do, Megan?" he asked, but I doubted he truly wished for my opinion. "I can't leave you here. The Druedain should not be the one to watch over you when it is the future of all of us you hold in your hands."

_Well, good point_, I thought. I could _almost_ believe that was his true motive. But the instincts Ghân had told me time and time again to listen to were warning me that to leave now would not end well. I had to learn how to blend in first, evade the attention of enemy spies. And _oh, boy_, there were spies enough in Rohan alone to pass them without arousing suspicion very difficult. Those black crows Saruman had under control really made me rethink whether sticking out my neck any further was truly a wise thing to do. However, I knew that the Druedain, as beautiful and knowledgeable as they were, were not really suited for shouldering the task of protecting me against such forces. And they were just too different from the Men of West to teach me how to blend in among those people.

_Time for plan B..._I thought. _If he won't listen to reason, then he will bow to authority..._

I took a deep breath and stated firmly, "I won't go anywhere without Gandalf's direct order." My eyes flashed in challenge. No one could make me believe that there were no other options – I could help the Fellowship _and_stay in the White Mountains. Perhaps that would be enough for Ghân to believe my mission was complete and I would be able to go back home. I had had enough a long time ago. Radagast just _had_ to understand me.

"Hm..." he harrumphed. The demand for Gandalf's input was rather a transparent plot, I have to confess, but it was all I could think of to buy myself time. Radagast knew just as well that an answer from the Grey Pilgrim could take several _weeks_ to reach us; if they found the elusive wizard, of course. I hoped these circumstances would give me time enough to think things through, plan, maybe even bail out. However, indirectly voicing this was a big tactical error.

"You're quite a fox yourself, aren't you Megan," he said and his mouth transformed into a thin line. "Think yourself smart?" A glimmer of suspicion lit up his eyes. He was still not completely sure he could trust me and my growing reluctance only gave him more and more justification to treat me as he did. My instincts were right; were I to go with him, I'd only trade one sort of captivity for another, much worse one.

"I..." I stuttered, trying to find an excuse or two to save my hide.

"Never mind that, girl..." he said before I could dig myself into an even bigger hole, "I know you are afraid and tired and that I won't be able to convince you to trust me by pushing you further into a corner. So stop resisting and follow me to the camp. We'll decide things there."

My mouth opened and closed a few times in disbelief.

"You're going to… _discuss_ my knowledge at the camp?" I asked slowly for clarification. It did not make any sense – at all. How did he imagine this would not reach the wrong ears? Soldiers gossiped and meeting two Druedain was big news enough on its own, I did not need further attention this would bring. And Nawat – Nawat could never learn of this! They would surely kill him to hide any trace of me!

I began to panic.

"We don't have the time to discuss this here, Megan," he said, visibly restraining his impatience. "Nawat will start a search if you don't appear at the camp in the next minutes. So, unless you wish for him to make a scene, come with me and we will sort things out – calmly."

My mind froze. The anger and suspicion covering his voice transformed him completely. Gone was the friendly, concerned and even gentle wizard who had approached me, now he was cold and even calculating. Everything pointed out that my worth had been reassessed. At first he only had a vague idea of who I could be, but now he knew exactly what kind of a chess-piece he was dealing with. And he did not like that it turned from a pawn to something far more dangerous.

With a bitter smile, I reminded myself to never get taken in by a friendly face again. He got what he searched for and more. If only I had kept my mouth shut...

"Let's go," he said and turned towards the camp. His long robes brushed on the floor as he presented his back to me, confident he had my cooperation. But that was his mistake. Pressure never made me comply – I was and always had been a rebellious spirit; if not on the outside then on the inside, in my soul. No one could control me there.

I dropped the water-skins to the floor and darted into the forest before the sound could whirl him around. I disappeared behind nearby trees as his cry of surprise rang out. Mighty spirit or not – he was still trapped inside an ancient body. He would not be able to run after me.

"MEGAN!" his voice boomed amid the trees, "MEGAN!"

I did not listen to him - I could not change my mind now. I would not be part of Nawat's ruin, I owed the Druedain that much. I had to save them, Nawat being my first concern. If history class has taught me anything it was this: anyone trying to get a hold of me so hard would cover every trace and that means eliminating the people who would know what happened to me. No amount of swearing or pleading that the Druedain have no idea of my knowledge would save them... knowing my identity would be enough a threat. And that I could not let happen... ever!

My feet were flying above the soft forest ground as my mind penned plans, one more desperate than the other. My abused lungs expanded and laboured, but the smoke inhalation demanded its toll and I could hardly keep up the pace of my breaths. A cramp in my side made me falter and forced me to stop by a mighty oak. Adrenaline sang through my veins as tears gathered in my eyes. I could hear a commotion and my blood froze – I was too late to warn Nawat. The wizard must have had a plan ready just in case I pulled a stunt.

_So much for their friendship! Damned LIARS! _

Tears ran down my cheeks. What was I to do now? Freedom was so near and yet so far away... On the right side of the tree was Ghân and my new home, on the left was Nawat. But there was no choice to be made, no right path to follow - I could never abandon Nawat, never. No, there was only one thing I could do; I had to get my brother out of here, keep him safe by any means necessary. Even if it meant making a bargain with the Devil, nothing less would do. It was my fault anyway...

I leaned on the thick trunk of the tree, gasping for breath, and curled an arm around my stomach. The sound of swords being drawn made me close my eyes in defeat. The game was up... and that thought alone chilled me to the bone.

_Why can't things go according to my plans? What in the world has this country against me? WHAT? What have I done to YOU?_

Angry tears trailed down my cheeks and I impatiently wiped them away. _This will not do, Meg,_I chastised myself. _This is no time for hysterics, get your act together, woman._

Suddenly, there was Nawat's voice raised up. He was screaming out for me, my name falling from his lips in fear. My heart constricted painfully – he was afraid for me when it was he who they had in their hands. His selflessness filled me with renewed determination.

_You HAVE to get him out – his family needs him. A son needs his father..._I reminded myself.

I wiped away new tears and nodded to myself. Time to put the last plan I thought of into action - I'd have to wing it, of course, nothing was guaranteed. It was most definitely a desperate act of a desperate woman, but if it got Nawat out... then it was worth it.

If my mother knew I thought like that, she would have been horrified. But mothers are the ones that would see their children live no matter what, even if it meant they forsake their friends and run away. For their child to choose danger voluntarily is madness, a nightmare. And perhaps she would have been right in that assessment; maybe I was not totally sane when I came up with the plan. However, the morals and values I brought with me were the only thing left of my old life and I had to cling to that. Otherwise I would betray myself and where would that leave me?

To get a sense of what was going on I listened to the sounds from the camp very closely now. Unfortunately, I could not understand a word they said and I cursed this many times over. The picture the tone of their voices painted was grim indeed for Nawat. My blood ran cold when some kind of a fight broke out among them. There was no time to be lost... I had to hope they would treat a woman differently than a foreign man, despite knowing how medieval societies and soldiers treated their female captives... I had to hope that they are not total savages despite all evidences saying the opposite. At least the leaders and Radagast should not condone too much violence... they still needed me for information, I thought. This was the card I had to play... the only chance to get some kind of a deal for Nawat.

So, I reached for a knife I've hid on my back under the many layers of clothing and bulky leather. Nobody would even know it was there since the amount of fabric concealed it. I could have carried a gun easily – the clothing of the Druedain allowed for a lot of room. Nawat too had a blade or two hidden somewhere on him, but I expected the men to search him and therefore did not count on him to help me with his rescue.

When I pulled out the blade encased in a leather sheath, I realised my hands were smeared with black paint. I've gotten it on my hands when I wiped away my tears. My face was certainly a mess. I could not go there like some heathen; they would not take me seriously! It was too late to hide behind pretences now anyway. When I needed to step forward as a confident modern girl, my face could not be hidden behind a mask.

"This will not do," I muttered.

The stream I had followed was just a few steps away, so I knelt down and hastily let icy cold water wash away tears and black paint, listening closely for any change in the camp that calmed down. The sudden silence made me weary – they were up to something. I just knew there would be men crawling everywhere in a matter of seconds. I had to have a cool head on my shoulders now.

And just as I had expected, many steps could be heard rushing over the soft forest ground, rustling the leaves and breaking branches with loud snapping sounds. The sudden noise made me drop down in reflex. I stayed beside the stream in shock for just a moment before skidding behind the oak in all haste. A nearby groove was just big enough for me to lie down and hide to my best ability.

I did not have any idea just how close to the camp I truly was, but I knew that the sound carried quite far in this area. The stream was further away from the camp for sure or we would have walked to it in this direction. It was still possible that some other natural barrier the men knew of prevented easy access, but I knew they would appear sooner or later.

In the end it did not take more than a few angst-filled minutes. Much to my horror, a tall man appeared close to the stream, his approaching steps only mounting my nervousness. Despite the loud steps, his sudden materialisation out of the forest took me by surprise. I thought for sure my plan was busted when he stopped. It would have been just my luck. Nothing went according to my plans – ever. So why should it be different this time?

My heart almost gave out when I realised he was _this_ close to figuring things out. I did not dare move a muscle – I was scared to death a rustle of leaves I lay on would betray me. If he looked just a bit further up and past the oak... oh, god – this was no joke. Just a few steps down the stream he would find the trail I left behind.

_Shit!_ _Shit, and double shit!_

For a nerve wrecking minute he took to make up his mind I was sweating buckets, too scared to do anything else than try to hold my breath and not make a sound. Finally, _finally_ he moved forward, disappearing into the forest with no look thrown my way. I dared to breathe again, but knew I had to get out of here – and fast. His stopping was no good omen. Something big was going down and it was tied to the wizard, I could just feel it.

The racket alone they produced in their chase made me wonder if they were trying to scare me to death or herd me somewhere like a wild animal. They almost succeeded on the first point, I have to admit. My hands were so shaky someone could have mistaken me for an old grandma, and another rush of adrenaline in just a few hours sure did not make things any easier. I had to have all my senses sharp, not muddled by an overload of stress hormones and other chemicals the body produced to protect itself.

_At least nobody thinks you are dumb enough to attempt a rescue_, I thought wryly when it became clear they were moving further into the woods. _Nobody will expect you at the camp then_… it was first good news of the day.

I was a bit unsure what went through Nawat's mind. He had to suspect a rescue mission on my part; I had not abandoned him the first time I ran away, so I would not do so this time either. But if he thought I would not be able to pull my plan off, he would make a deal of his own. I'd bet my right arm on this. Showing up at the camp could backfire spectacularly…

_Fuck that – I'll get him out one way or another!_

With my mind firmly on the goal, I moved towards the camp as stealthily as I could. A mistake now would be disastrous, I kept reminding myself. These men were able to defeat a pack of wolves in the middle of the night – it would be close to a miracle to get in sight of them without tipping them off!

Somehow, though, I managed to crawl through the underbrush, just close enough to get the centre of the camp in sight. How long that took me, I had no idea – it could have been close to twenty minutes, even more. There were a lot of broken branches on the ground that I had to be mindful of. But patience paid off in many ways; I was calmer, my mind focused on action and not on endless and horrendous speculations, and the slow progress through the forest helped me detect carefully hidden guards long before they could spot me. No wonder the Druedain were masters of their forest, I thought – if a novice like me could crawl close enough to the camp, I could barely imagine what masters of the art were capable of.

I almost giggled out loud at the thought this observation produced – it almost sounded as if I've just compared the peace-loving Druedain to the Ninja clans of Japan. The thought just proved how frazzled my nerves were. I quickly sobered. I still had to solve the problem these guards posed; knowing there are some posted and evading them are two completely different things after all. I was stuck – literally.

No Ranger was stupid enough to let his camp unprotected and chase down a girl, even though it would have helped me tremendously. There were guards on all sides, steadily combing through the forest with their eyes and alert on every sound most of the times. It was that 'most of the times' that helped me get this far – the events inside the camp captured their attention the closer I got to the camp and the noise levels there rose steadily with each minute. _That_ worried me...

So it was no wonder I was itching for an opening to execute my plan and save Nawat from whatever fate befell him. It was impossible to see him when so many men were blocking the view, not to mention the thick bush I was crouched under that hid me from hostile eyes. It was a last bush before a wide cleared area that made a successful ambush on them that much harder.

_Great, just great… what now you genius?_

Any thoughts about the problem were erased from my mind by another loud commotion in the camp.

"Don't LIE to me! Where is she running to?" bellowed Radagast in Druedain, seemingly at the end of his patience with my stubborn protector. I winced in sympathy, cringing on the inside even more at the tone. _No don't... don't anger him…_I thought, knowing very well that it was futile to hope Nawat wouldn't do exactly that.

The next moment I got a first glimpse of my big brother.

I almost wished I hadn't.

He was kneeling on the ground, his hands bound at his back with some rope as well as his ankles. Two guards were holding him down by the shoulders, which I thought was serious overkill until I saw the bruising on his face. They were holding him up so he did not fall over when struck in the face!

_Bastards! Those heartless BASTARDS... _

His hair and clothes were quite dishevelled, yet that did not surprise me at all. He must have resisted hard when they imprisoned him, fighting for freedom almost on instinct. If several bruised faces and dark expressions were any indication, he got at least a few hits for the ones dealt to him. But what really worried me was a suspicious dark stain on his left arm.

_That's not good… Please, don't let him be hurt…_ I pleaded, knowing it was much too late to wish for it now. That surely looked like a stab wound.

The furious wizard kept firing questions at Nawat, now in Druedain now in the Common tongue, but he only got a poisonous glare in return when he struck a nerve.

"You'll have to kill me first before I'll betray her…" spat back Nawat. I cringed, anticipating a painful retaliation to that declaration.

It never came, much to my surprise. I was sure Nawat would get hit again – the red areas on his face were surely from being smacked around during the questioning. Radagast was far too keen on the information about me to exercise much patience.

Then I witnessed the way the Ranger tensed and I realised the dark look he shot the wizard meant something quite the opposite from what I had expected. Valandur was not happy with the situation at all. He was protecting Nawat.

_Holy crap! I may have a chance after all!_I thought – my plan was not so stupid after all.

The wizard visibly calmed down then resumed his line of questioning, the Ranger's watchful eye observing his every move. He was far too smart to let Radagast pull one over him; sooner or later the sneaky Istari would have to come clean. Surely Valandur would have taken over the interrogation if he knew who I was. It was quite clear an idea about my identity was forming in his mind already.

"_Why are you asking me these questions?_" snarled Nawat in the Common tongue. "_I already told you, my sister never set a foot in your lands._"

"She is not your blood sister, is she?" retorted Radagast angrily in Druedain. "Now tell me the truth – how does she know about the Uruk-hai and the raids in Rohan?"

"What are you talking about?" was puzzled Nawat, alarm spreading over his face nonetheless. I'm sure he, just like his father, knew I was far more knowledgeable about the land than I had confessed to be. And, in contrast to Radagast, the men knew to trust me and give me time.

"_Don't lie to me!_" exploded Radagast. Before anyone could intervene he backhanded Nawat with all the force he could produce. The blow forced Nawat's head sharply to the left, a discoloured area there revealing it wasn't the first blow to that particular spot. The sound itself made me cringe in my hiding place, tears of rage and sympathy gathering in my eyes.

I could have killed him, the vile snake!

"_Radagast, that is enough!_" cried the Ranger sharply in the Common tongue and I looked up in alarm. The tone of his voice was pure ice. But then he grabbed the wizard's hand and pulled him away from Nawat forcefully. Even when I did not fully understand the reason Valandur was protecting Nawat, I thanked the heavens for this act of mercy.

"_What_ _is going on? You've told me the girl ran, but that does not explain your behaviour at all!_" hissed Valandur. "_What in Valar's name is going on?_"

"_Do_ _not question me, Valandur – this is more serious than you can imagine,_" replied Radagast angrily and the two men locked gazes. It was a silent battle of wills and one could hear a pin drop in the camp. It seems everyone had waited for this to happen sooner or later and now they couldn't tear their gazes away. It was like observing two lions circle each other. Every eye was trained on them, even Nawat's.

If that wasn't the right time to pull my stunt, I knew no other. But I could not move yet. I had to find out what was going on first. Their loyalties were clearly divided. The presence of one man who was not leaping in joy at the harsh treatment made me adjust my expectations just a little.

_When the leader is against such methods of obtaining information, maybe I can get out of this unscathed_, I thought. _Slim chance_, I warned myself, looking at all the dark faces in the camp, _but at least a chance_. _Maybe a black eye or two would be enough, or are they into full-on torture?_

"_You won't treat prisoners like that while I'm present. I'm warning you!_" growled Valandur. His second-in-command seemed to agree while few men squirmed in discomfort at his harsh words, and others were silently disagreeing. However, a voice of reason was enough to get their blood-thirst under control.

I was watching the events with a sharp eye – I had to find the right time for my plan.

Most of the camp had the same idea, eagerly waiting for the result of the hissed disagreement, and only one guard moved in his spot, turning his back on my position. Just when I thought I had time enough to calm down and prepare, a suspicious sound in the forest made me look back. It almost sounded like someone was slowly sneaking towards my position!

Alarmed that one of the soldiers _did_ find my prints, I decided to execute my plan before I was caught. And more pertinently, when was I to find another opportunity like that again?

They were still too preoccupied with the quarrel to pay attention to their surroundings, so nobody saw me straighten up. I clutched a small bronze knife in my right hand, feeling how my sweaty hands made the handle stick to my skin. It was absolutely crazy, but I stepped forward with quick and sure steps, my face a mask of perfect resolve. I always did perform well under pressure.

The sound of footsteps made few soldiers look up, but before anyone could do anything, my angry voice rang out, "Let him go, NOW!"

Radagast's head turned around so fast I was sure he'd get whiplash. His eyes were almost comically wide in their surprise, but others weren't sporting any dignified expressions either. For a second they looked at me in complete bewilderment, but before they could reach for their weapons the hand with the knife jumped up and settled at my jugular, digging into soft flesh to make the point even clearer. My feet had stopped at the outer range of the campsite.

"NO!" cried out Radagast, his outburst freezing everyone who wanted to react to my presence. He seemed to regret his strong reaction the next instant – I was not hundred percent sure before, but now I knew he would do anything to keep me breathing (if not physically whole – there was Nawat's condition to consider after all).

"Not a step closer!" I cried when a guard wanted to approach me slowly from the side. My hand dug the blade deeper, drawing blood unintentionally.

The sight of one single drop trailing slowly down my throat seemed to freeze everyone. Their expressions betrayed utter shock and rising horror. I bet they'd never seen anything like me before. I was their first crazy woman with a flair for the dramatic after all, but they couldn't have known dying was the last thing on my list. My face must have been really convincing though.

It was Nawat's voice that made everyone snap out of their silence. "Megan... what are you doing?" he asked in a thin voice, his horrified face erased of all colour.

I ignored him, but it was hard. The sound of his voice broke my heart and I could not shed tears now. "You want me?" I asked Radagast in a hard voice – real anger bleeding through the brittleness. Though my resolve was firm, I was understandably nervous and frightened. "You want to know everything?" I demanded, my eyes not straying from his face. I had to be tough now even though I was scared shitless.

Radagast remained surprisingly silent while Nawat turned to the man who had stopped his interrogation. "_Do something! Stop this madness!_" he implored Valandur who seemed to have frozen in his spot, his face one of dawning recognition. Any second now and he would know for sure who I was.

The men began to whisper nervously among them, no one knowing what exactly was going on.

"Megan, don't be stupid. Drop the knife," commanded the wizard in his most reasonable tones. He had regained control of his emotions now and, as expected, he tried to bluff his way through an obstacle in his path. But not this time, old man...

"You need me alive, right? I'm no good to you dead, am I?" I demanded, pretending to be just a tad bit unbalanced and crazy, which wasn't far from the truth considering this plan. I let anger permeate my voice, "I won't be a _puppet_, Radagast. I won't!" I declared.

Tremors shook my body, whether produced by fear or stress I was not sure; they gave credence to the crazy act I was pulling through. However, I could not let it control me completely or all would be lost. I balled my hand into a fist, hoping to stop the fine tremors of my fingers that could let the knife slip. I knew instantly that some men already noticed my control was slipping.

Looking at Nawat, I saw that my words had only fed his panic. The soldiers had no idea what I was shouting about since I was using Druedain, and the wizard was not exactly in the sharing mood. Nawat though, was under no such compulsion. "_You!_" he cried out, looking at Radagast with accusing eyes, "_What have you done to her?_"

Those words exploded across the camp with all the finesse of a bomb. Every head and eyes turned on the wizard who had a hard time finding words and holding his frustration at bay. Harsh words echoed in the air, questions and speculations rampant. Nawat had not worded that question really delicately, so anything could apply – from threats to physical violence. These men were not so quick to harm a woman as I thought.

Radagast was understandably very angry when his authority was questioned. Valandur had shown him great courtesy when he included him in the group and entrusted his men to him. But the interrogation and now my very unbalanced act were throwing shadows on the previously bright image of the wizard. I was very afraid of what he would do – his eyes promised retaliation for this, or at least that is what I thought. To me it appeared like he was possessed by an angry spirit – there was something extremely dangerous about him, about the charged air in the camp. I could hardly compare him to the gentle old man we met but a short hour ago, who laughed and joked with the men.

I started visibly shaking, my breaths feeling shallower than before. A droplet of nervous sweat trailed down my hairline and my stomach churned dangerously, threatening a reappearance of the meal consumed before the chaos. Things were spiralling out of my control – I just knew it and despite that could do nothing about it.

"_Calm down, little woman,_" Valandur suddenly cut in into the chaos, his voice carrying a soothing and warm tone, and using his beautiful Sindarin to get a hold of the situation. "_We won't hurt you,_" he promised gently, motioning for the men to get their hands off their weapons. After a moment they complied, still not understanding completely what was going on, but trusting their leader enough to obey.

"_Everything is alright,_" he said, almost promised. His face transformed from the harsh lines called forth by stress into a gentler version of his striking features. His steel-gray eyes were pools of calmness.

I did not understand his words, but the tones he used reminded me of the canyon the months before when I was scared out of my mind and he had tried to soothe me. He did have a beautiful voice, I realised with a touch of surprise. The sheer size of him was as intimidating as ever, but despite that I could not deny that he felt reliable, like someone you could trust, and that judgement was only strengthened by his protection of Nawat. A shiver raced down my spine; I could not let myself be fooled again!

To my everlasting surprise Nawat visibly calmed when the Ranger took over the command in the camp. Just what the hell went on here when I was in the forest? And what did they talk about when I was dozing before? I definitely did not share Nawat's sentiments – everyone was an enemy here. Was he not afraid of them anymore? They are his tribe's enemies for Christ's sake! Valandur would not go against his men no matter how much he disliked the abuse of prisoners – you just could not trust them!

Valandur continued to speak, with the same tone one would use to coax a frightened animal from its hiding place. Perhaps this reminded him of the past and he now tried to prevent another disaster. But I have given him my attention for too long. My eyes returned to the wizard, who I was the most afraid of. It was _he_ who was my problem, not the soldiers. Though they were frightening enough, I suppose.

"I want you to let Nawat go free," I said calmly, after taking a deep breath to fortify myself. "Let him return to his people."

"_What is she saying?_" asked Valandur, halting his progress towards me next to Nawat. "_Can you tell me?"_ he asked after squatting down to be level with him. I did not miss the subtle sign of respect that action could mean despite my preoccupation. I still worried he would pull out a knife and Nawat turned hostage, but the Ranger was not that kind of a man.

"_She wants you to let me go,"_ Nawat answered with a puzzled tone, his brows knitting together. My very specific demand was omitting one crucial point and he knew it. I did not demand to go with him.

The Ranger seemed to come to the same conclusion from the look on Nawat's face. He looked up at me in some surprise and dare I say even some small hope? He still wanted answers about me, almost needed them. If I stayed, the wizard would be satisfied and bloodshed would be avoided. "_Not __us__?_" he asked Nawat.

"_No. She is trading herself for me... But why?_" wondered Nawat. "Megan – what is going on?" he asked again worriedly.

I just smiled, a tiny lifting of the corners of my mouth really, and shook my head. He had to remain in the dark for this to work. I knew my time was up. I could not hide anymore, so I did not even expect it to be an option. Radagast would never let it happen and I thought the Ranger would feel the same when he found out about my knowledge; which he certainly would, if Radagast had any say in this situation. The wizard would need an ally to get me safely away from here.

The soldiers looked at me in surprise at this revelation. They had not expected anything like this to happen. Chivalry in a woman? Was it even possible? Why would a girl save a grown man not of her blood?

Even Valandur's eyes betrayed he was touched by my sense of honour and puzzled by my decision at the same time. He had seen the level of devotion Nawat and I held for each other. He knew my brother was willing to die for me, but that _I_ would do the same?

"_Who is she?_" he asked Nawat in slight puzzlement and a touch of astonishment. I was a puzzle ever since he first saw me. I continued to defy every definition or expectation.

"_She is my student, my sister,_" answered Nawat. "_She is the White Wolf – the bearer of knowledge, a protector._" There was pride in his voice. I had followed my calling, my animal spirit, so he had to respect that, yet he was also frightened. This situation could not end well – he knew as much.

"_Knowledge, you say,_" he mused as my eyes once again settled in fear on the wizard. Valandur suddenly realised what this trade was about, "_Yes, I can see that,_" he said, his tone of voice turning harder with each word. An ugly look was thrown at the wizard; he had put all available pieces together – Radagast had not been that good in concealing his purpose of the interrogation. The Ranger was not amused at all at the deception. He should have been told of my identity an hour ago.

He straightened up and threw a look at the wizard. Radagast immediately stepped closer and a hushed conversation was started, clearly meant for their ears only. Anger could be read on the Ranger's face, so I tried to understand what this was about. The men were whispering among themselves too and I could hardly keep up with what was going on everywhere. It is no wonder I missed several rapid coded hand signals from the second-in-command as well as the Ranger. The last nail in a coffin was when Nawat began to plead with me to reconsider; were they not allies of the tribe now?

Before I could realise what was going on, two men jumped out of the same bush I had been hiding in at the start of this mess. It happened in a blink of an eye. The only warning I had was the widening of Nawat's eyes and the sudden wind before the hand with the knife was ripped from my neck and twisted to my back, the other arm gripped with a bruising force that made me buckle instinctively.

I twisted in a move taught in all self-defence classes and almost got my arm free, but the man got me by the clothes again. Another soldier ran up immediately, helping them to get the knife out of the way. My one item of protection taken, I lost it. The camp was suddenly in total mayhem.

"NO! NO!" I screamed - the sound so raw and primal I surprised myself.

My knife lay forgotten on the ground as I tried to twist out of their iron hold with no success. Their hands were on my arms, snagging my hair, bruising tender flesh and pinning me to the spot, while a well placed kick was delivered to my legs that brought me to my knees. It took them only seconds to get me on the ground.

I freaked out, completely out of my mind in fear at the sudden turn of events and the loss of control. My struggle only intensified and with it their use of force, which in turn further fuelled my fear. It was a vicious circle of one side reacting to the other. They had no choice but to get a better hold of me and all propriety was forgotten – rough hands suddenly touched places they had no business of getting even near to; that made me react with a woman's instinctual fear.

A shrill scream rang out, hurting my raw throat as I scratched at everything in my reach, kicking and bucking. Someone had to get a hold of my neck to hold me down to stop me from biting, and to prevent me from twisting out of clothes in pure desperation.

I had to get up – no one would hold me down! I thought I was as good as dead if not worse. With the odd positions their hands found high on my ribs and on my thighs, fear of rape was suddenly on the forefront of my mind. I did not understand their commands, their aggression. The vulnerable position and the way they were pinning me down only intensified that. I could not help myself when one of them moved behind me to pin me to his chest – I lost it.

I did not hear the Ranger run to my side, trying to prevent any injury. It was pure chaos in my mind – like I was completely disconnected and any higher cognitive functions had suddenly malfunctioned. I could dimly hear Nawat above the shouts of the men, but everything was covered in a haze of instinctual fear.

"_Shhh... it's alright. It's alright..._" were the first words my mind registered several minutes later when my struggles had ceased from pure exhaustion. The iron bands holding me to an equally unyielding chest squeezed in warning when I made some sort of noise, but grew looser once I stopped moving. My heart hammered in my chest with painful intensity and I felt dizzy.

They had not dared to subdue me with a blow to the head or a chokehold to get it over with, but hyperventilation shortened my struggles anyway. I was completely spent and could not find any energy to fight back the considerably larger men. Involuntary shivers racked my body and only intensified once the hands holding me in place slowly but surely slacked their hold. Oh, they were still pinning me down – large, male hands, rough and demanding. I could still feel the places they had touched like they were burned.

"_By Valar, she is completely terrified..._" someone muttered. Even when most of the pressure moved away and only a pair of hands remained on my shoulders, I shook like a leaf in utter fear. I could not look up. I could not look anywhere but the forest floor while sobs shook my frame.

"_Shhhh... It's alright. We won't hurt you..._" said a familiar voice again. The hands were replaced with another, these one gentler. When they pulled me up to my knees and away from the iron chest covering my back, I almost struck out again, but the man was faster. He captured my hands in a strong yet still gentle grip that had me look up in surprise. It was Valandur kneeling on the ground before me.

"_You see? Nobody's going to hurt you,"_he said in a calm voice. His face was full of sympathy.

I could not look him in the eyes for more than a second; I just wanted to crawl somewhere and die of shame. Understanding and empathy were two things I did not really expect from the man right then. Why? Why be kind to me now?

The sound of shuffling feet made me look up; there, just a few steps away my eyes saw the wizard's dirty robes. I sucked in a breath. _No!_

My face must have lost its remaining colour because the hands on my shoulders gently tightened in encouragement. The Ranger waited until I met his eyes and looked at me with his penetrating gaze. He seemed to have found what he looked for as lines on his face deepened; whether in discontent or worry I was not sure. His expression, however, became stormy as he turned towards the wizard.

He said something in Sindarin again, most likely a command since the wizard began to object. That I cringed in fear at his voice seemed only to feed the Ranger's protective instinct; that was the only explanation I could come up with for him to move and block my sight. He shielded me from the wizard's gaze and at the same time hid the object of my fear from me – very efficient.

But when the wizard did not heed his command even then, he motioned with his hand to one of the men to escort the wizard away. There were some angry words, but soon a tense sort of a hushed atmosphere fell on the camp.

Suddenly Valandur's eyes were once again trained on me and I knew without a shiver of doubt that the time for my interrogation has come.

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